Renaissance
by Lyon's Own
Summary: A series of vicious murders terrorises Wizarding Britain. Auror Potter is tasked with stopping the killer and protecting a prominent figure targeted by the killer. He must follow the clues and his heart on a journey of retribution, reclamation, & rebirth.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I've been sitting on this awhile and decided to come back to it to jump start my writing habit. I'm pleased with how it's going so far and hope you'll enjoy it too!

My thanks to my betas Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for knocking this into shape, but since I fiddled with it after they were finished note that all remaining errors are mine.

And speaking of errors, hold off on flaming me for poor spelling until you read the ending author's note. And pay attention to Hermione's pronoun lesson!!

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**1****.**

The young Auror blew the fringe out of his eyes and shook his head in frustration. It was turning into a really awful day. "You can't be serious, Kingsley. I can't do this. I don't _want_ to do this. Can't you assign someone else to this case?"

The statuesque black man behind the desk raised a brow and frowned at his subordinate. "I'm not giving you a choice, Potter," he said firmly. "You _will_ take this case. You will protect the leadership of the Renaissance Foundation to the best of your ability, and you will find the wizards committing these murders, or you can hand in your resignation. We don't play favourites here. Wizards and witches are being threatened and despite your feelings about the political leanings of the victims, you have sworn to protect them. If you feel that not everyone deserves equal protection under the law, then there's no place for you in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's Auror corps."

Harry Potter dropped his head, chastened by the authority and hint of disappointment in his one-time trainer's voice. They'd stood side by side risking their lives for a world where equality was paramount, where one's blood status did not grant an individual greater or lesser rights and opportunities, or mark you for death. To refuse this assignment because there were mostly pure-bloods behind the Renaissance Foundation would be the height of hypocrisy. "Sorry, Kingsley," Harry said evenly as he reached again for the file. He sighed. "I want choice on my team for this, though."

Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded. "Of course, Harry. You have authorisation for a task force of six, including yourself, with additional tactical support as needed for detentions and crisis situations." Kingsley offered a small smile. "I've already reassigned Granger, Weasley, Finnegan, Pendleton, and Tonks' open cases, though if you want other Aurors, I can—"

For the first time since he'd initially been handed the case file, Harry grinned. "No, that's perfect. They're who I want. We'll take Staging Room 3 as our base of investigation."

"Your team will join you there as soon as I send out the memos." In an uncharacteristic show, the Head Auror's shoulders slumped slightly. "I'm sorry to have to throw you into this mess, but you're the best we have and the press is having a field day with these murders. Those vultures are going to be all over your team, but if anyone can handle it, you can."

Harry grimaced when he recalled the morning's headlines screaming the incompetence of the Ministry, the DMLE in particular, and the accusations of inaction based on the victims' identities. It was a high-profile case, and it made sense to place the Ministry's highest-profile Auror on it, but still it rankled. "It's all right, Kingsley," Harry sighed. "We'll catch these arseholes and things will go back to normal around here."

"From your lips to Merlin's ears," his department head said tiredly. "Go on, Harry. I expect a report on your initial progress by Saturday; the Minister wants to have something for the press to boost his approval ratings in time for the evening _Prophet_."

Harry shook his head, lamenting that the Minister of Magic, even when such a man as Arthur Weasley, always had to placate the press in some manner to stay ahead in the politics game. "Saturday morning, don't worry." He stood and Kingsley waved him on in dismissal.

Harry left Kingsley's office and headed for his new base of operations with the thick case file tucked under his arm, mulling over what he knew about the series of murders that were causing such havoc within Britain's magical community. He entered Staging Room 3 and sighed again. It wasn't that he didn't feel for the victims or that he wanted their murderers to go free, but he had to admit he was uncomfortable with the kind of people who'd been targeted. Fifteen years in the Wizarding world and he was still thrown for a loop every so often. He'd certainly never heard of triarii, as they were called, before these murders started making headlines. Half-humans, part-creatures, yes, these constructions made a kind of sense to him, but hermaphrodites? That just wasn't something that was supposed to happen in nature, was it? And he certainly didn't advocate the elimination of this third sex, but did they really need to flaunt themselves about so? He knew that the triarii looked relatively normal, and if they'd just use glamours and wear different types of clothing from what was currently favoured surely there'd be less harassment and this segment of the magical population wouldn't be targeted by psychotic mad wizards.

"Oi, Harry, hear we've been pulled for the he/she case?" Seamus Finnegan grinned broadly as he greeted the pensive team leader.

Harry smiled faintly and chuckled when Hermione Granger smacked him in the arm as she strolled into the room. "Really, Seamus," she frowned. "They're triarii, not he/she's. That's so—so derogatory!"

Her husband shrugged as he took his own seat. "Don't get her started, mate," he warned. "She's been on about this whole 'triarii aren't just birds with bits' thing since the story broke in the _Prophet_." Ron smiled affectionately at his wife, but there was a hint of exasperated patience there as well.

Tonks and Pendleton came in last. The latter was sipping her coffee as Ron spoke, and nearly blew the hot beverage through her nose with his last comment. "Birds with bits?" she sputtered, brushing droplets of the coffee spray from her navy Auror robes.

Ron grinned unrepentantly, patently ignoring his wife's glare, and said, "That's what some people are calling 'em."

Harry held up his hands before Hermione could launch into a lecture about the importance of using politically-correct terminology. "Well, we'll be using the correct terms here, as we're going to be having a lot of interaction with them until this investigation is wrapped up. So everyone take a seat. We have a lot to cover this morning. I want to get started tracking down leads so we can get these nutters off the streets."

"The herms?" Seamus asked, using another slang term for the triarii, with his best wide-eyed innocent look, not that it was ever really convincing.

"Seamus!" Hermione frowned, and again Harry jumped in before she could get rolling.

"That's enough, Seamus. Now let me brief you on what we do know. In the last six weeks, eight—uh—triarii have been found murdered in alleyways off public venues. Wainwright and Ricks handled the initial investigations; according to them, none of the victims reported harassment to the DMLE in the weeks prior to their deaths; however, all were somehow affiliated with the Renaissance Foundation." Harry ignored the groans and continued his summary.

"Each victim was brutally gutted via the Interanea curse; additionally all their bodies show signs of the Cruciatus. Someone out there wants these people to suffer and die. It's our job to find out who and put a stop to it," he said sternly, righteous determination filling him at the thought of killings which smacked of the cruel destruction unleashed during the worst Death Eater days.

"So far there have been few leads, though Wainwright and Ricks believed there might be some clues in poison-pen letters received by the Renaissance Foundation. That's one avenue of investigation. All the victims had connections to the Foundation, so I want us to split up. Hetty, Tonks, Seamus—I want you three to start by reviewing the previous case notes for new leads. Ron, Hermione—for now you're with me. The most recent letters make direct threats against the Renaissance Foundation's Executive Director, saying the next slaying will be higher profile and 'strike a blow at the heart of the problem.' We'll be interviewing the Director tomorrow and shadowing him for the foreseeable future."

Hermione's eyes grew wider, but Harry shook his head, a silent warning that she was not to interrupt just yet.

Seamus, however, missed that non-verbal warning as he was perusing the case file Harry had passed to the centre of the table. "Damn, are we sure the victims are all triarii, Harry? This poor lass don' look like no boy/girl to me. She looks perfectly normal." He pointed to a picture near the top of the file.

Harry frowned and waved his wand at the case file. In seconds the evidence board at the front of the room bore enlarged magical photos of the victims in life, along with brief biographical and demographical information. As was standard operating procedure, each photograph acted as a kind of album cover for additional photos taken during the investigation of the scenes and the post-mortem examination. No one wanted those photos on casual display, especially since occasionally unauthorised press personnel made their way into more sensitive areas of the Ministry, and no matter how battle-hardened one might be, gruesome deaths could unsettle the hardiest investigators.

"The latest victim." Harry pointed his wand at one of the snapshots on the board and a screen-sized enlargement was projected to hover in mid-air in front of the evidence board. "Seventeen-year-old Cameron Davis, a female-dominant triarii or gyrl—" Harry spelled the word out for his colleagues— "has become the face of these victims in the press, and the outcry for a swift resolution and justice is coming down heavy on the Ministry." The photo showed a young sandy-haired gyrl with flushed cheeks and bright hazel eyes, dressed in the standard Hogwarts uniform emblazoned with the Ravenclaw insignia, giggling and laughing with hir friends in the Quidditch stands.

"Politics and personal opinions have no place here." He glared at Seamus. "We get this done by the book. If the press starts hounding you, let me know." It was a transparent manipulation, but just to remind his team what faced other innocents should they be lax about their duty, he changed the photo projection to display Cameron's young body as found in an alley off the main thoroughfare in Hogsmeade, slit open from navel to neck, blood congealing in a dark pool around hir body and speckled in hir hair. He left it hovering a few moments, as his team paled, and flippancy was replaced by acceptance. They were all war veterans and had witnessed countless horrors. It was abhorrent to see such violence being perpetrated on innocents in peacetime. With another flick of his wand the image faded, and he looked grimly at his team.

"Seamus, you made one good point and that is, for the most part, it is hard to just look at someone and determine whether they're triarii or not. This is one reason we believe whoever is behind the attacks is using the Renaissance Foundation to root out their victims."

"Harry, you said all the victims had ties to the Renaissance Foundation. Is the connection the same for all of them? Could this be an inside job by someone who copied a membership list or something like that?" Pendleton asked.

He shook his head, "That's what we're going to find out. I don't know the victims' exact connection to the Foundation, just that each had an affiliation. We need to start with an understanding of the Renaissance Foundation, I think; who they are, what they do, who's backing them, before we can reach any firm conclusions." He offered a brief smile to his long-time friend at his left. "Hermione, what can you tell us about the Renaissance Foundation?"

Knowing she'd be asked, the brilliant young witch had been frantically scribbling notes over the last few minutes to gather her thoughts and the various bits of information she'd gleaned about this organisation, so when Harry turned to her she was ready to give her presentation.

"The Renaissance Foundation is a large private foundation which has as its mission to 'preserve, protect and promote Wizard-born culture and society.' There are several groups under this umbrella organisation including an orphanage, Heritage House; a comprehensive primary and secondary school, the Heritage Academy; the Isis Gallery of Modern Art and Sculpture; the Thaum Library and Centre for Research; and the Heritage Museum. It was founded shortly after the war and funded mostly by pure-blood families who'd remained neutral, like the Zabinis and Corners. Though, interestingly enough, there are several contributors who are declared Light families as well, the most prominent of those being the McGonagalls and the Smiths." The former Gryffindors shared a shocked look that their former Head of House would have ties to any organisation that promoted a pure-blood agenda. Hermione spared them all a commiserating glance.

Pendleton, the only non-Gryffindor among them, got them back on track. "What do the concerns of the triarii have to do with pure-blood politics, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded at her colleague. "All documented triarii are pure-bloods. Some say it's an effect of generations of inbreeding, others that there's always been a definitive third sex in the Wizarding world, but there have been no authoritative studies to support either claim. They're different from intersexed, transgendered, or transsexual Muggles, because not only are they magical but their development of dual sex characteristics is not only a fully 'natural' process, but both sets of reproductive systems are fully functional, which doesn't usually happen in cases of intersexed Muggles. Also, the Triarius condition develops at the peak of magical development, shortly before or after a wizard or witch's seventeenth birthday. Muggles who are affected are usually born that way and are often pressured into undergoing surgery to make their bodies clearly either male or female."

Seamus frowned. "So why don't more—uh—triarii have surgery, Hermione? You'd think they'd want to be normal."

She made a slightly impatient sound as she explained, "They _are_ normal, Seamus. There's nothing wrong with them. And besides, it's considered a great honour for a family to have a triarii child, as supposedly they have very high levels of powerful innate magic. In fact, that's one way they try to identify the condition during standard magical antenatal testing. It's the same test they use to determine whether a child will be born a Squib. If the foetus shows high innate magical levels along with particular genetic markers, there's a good chance they will become triarii. Besides, if they're raised with that expectation, I'm sure the transition isn't so awkward."

Seamus shrugged. "All right, so all the triarii were pure-bloods and had something to do with this Renaissance Foundation. What's the motive, besides the claptrap they're printing these days about Muggle-born intolerance?"

"Don't know, Seamus. Could be financial, someone the Foundation burned and whoever it is goes after the triarii to throw us off their trail. Could be intolerance, could be wholly random; there are too many unknown variables to make a guess right now. Our interview with their Executive Director tomorrow may narrow things down a bit," Harry answered.

"Who is their Executive Director? We're going to be guarding him, right?" Ron asked.

Harry grimaced; his best friend was not going to like this, any more than he did really. "Renaissance Foundation's Executive Director is Draco Malfoy."

"WHAT? We should be locking that git up in Azkaban, not wasting time guarding that Death Eater! Harry!"

The team leader sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, "Look, Ron, I don't like it either. It seems to me the Renaissance Foundation is just the kind of place that endorses the bigotry and separatism that spawned the Death Eaters. But the fact is it's a private foundation, so it's beyond the control of the Ministry. There's no evidence they're anything but law-abiding, and every free citizen deserves equal protection. Former Death Eater or not."

"But Harry, surely this violates my little cousin's probation conditions or something?" Tonks asked, still frustrated, as many of them were, that Draco Malfoy had escaped justice for his part in the early days of the war despite his later dedicated work for the Order.

Harry shook his head. "No, I asked Kingsley. The Ministry may frown on the mission of the Renaissance Foundation, but Malfoy's participation in it is sanctioned as long as he refrains from criminal acts."

Tonks scrunched her nose and crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. "This reeks, Harry."

He shrugged. "Let's not get away from the true issue at hand. Someone is targeting the triarii. Our personal feelings about Malfoy aside, we have a duty to him and to the victims. So let's get to it, people. Hetty, Tonks, Seam—you three get to work on the previous case file. Hermione, work up a full profile of both the Renaissance Foundation and Director Malfoy. We need a list of their known enemies. Ron, do a commonalities profile of the victims; let's see if we can get a clearer understanding of their connection to the Renaissance Foundation, and each other, if there is any." He checked his watch for the time and looked up. "I'll be in my office preparing questions for tomorrow's interview and drawing up a protection schedule. We'll meet back here for a preliminary briefing on the victim's profile at four." Harry stood as Pendleton shot out her last question.

"Malfoy—do we know whether he's a target just because of his position with Renaissance Foundation?"

Harry was about to shake his head when Hermione threw out a bombshell for the small taskforce. "Hir position and identity both, I'd imagine. Sie's triarii as well, and very public about hir identity."

Ron and Harry's jaws dropped, and Seamus' eyes nearly boggled out of his head. "Malfoy's a he/she?" Seamus gawped.

"Well, that explains a lot. He was always such a ponce. It's 'cause he's a girl," Ron sniggered.

Harry shook away his shock and slipped out as Hermione launched into another chastising lecture complete with the importance of using gender-neutral pronouns. He made it back to his office despite the daze and sank into his chair. Malfoy was triarii. Had he known? He reviewed his memories of his schoolyard rival, trying to reconcile them with his new knowledge. Malfoy had always been slight. Even after most of the boys, including Harry, had shot up between fifth and sixth years, Malfoy was small by comparison. He'd gained some height in the intervening years, but when Harry had seen him last he was only as tall as Hermione, who stood even with Harry's shoulders.

Harry couldn't make determinations based on clothing, because Malfoy had worn loose slacks and baggy jumpers, as most of the Order had during the war, though perhaps that was an indication. He'd always been on the more effeminate side of masculine, Harry remembered. His cupid-bow lips and satiny complexion had been the envy of many girls at Hogwarts. And there had been those rumours…that Malfoy was gay.

What exactly constituted the sexuality of a triarii? Were they all bisexual? Harry wondered, and blushed to recall the bit of a crush he'd had on the fair-faced boy. Malfoy was good-looking. Beautiful even, if one could discount his atrocious personality. And like so many others, Harry had been enamoured of his unique good looks.

Harry turned his attention from his musings back to his work and wrote up a list of interview questions based on the findings of the preliminary reports and standard investigational avenues. When he'd finished, he drew up a basic duty schedule for the members of his teams assigned to Malfoy's protection. Hermione was good in the field but better with research, so he'd switched out many of the hours he'd initially slotted for her with Seamus. He finished the summaries needed for the open cases Kingsley had reassigned and by four was well ready to be away from his desk.

Because of a quick detour through the break room he was the last to arrive this time, a cup of steaming Earl Grey in hand. Quickly the team got to work, and Ron delved into his briefing.

"Here's what we have so far. You all know there have been eight victims to date," he began, professionalism well in hand thanks to a last-minute lecture from his wife. "The first, August Gabriel, was the oldest victim at 37. Sie was Renaissance's Financial Director. Sie also did volunteer work at the Heritage Museum and did pro bono financial planning for a few families with children at the Heritage Academy.

"When sie didn't return home for supper after a late-afternoon meeting with some potential investors, sie was reported missing by hir wife of fifteen years, Valerie, and found the next morning in an alley in the Wizarding section of Edinburgh. Though she is without a fully substantiated alibi, Valerie Gabriel was cleared as a suspect in the initial investigation. She and the couple's two youngest children were seen by neighbours gardening until around suppertime.

"The second victim, Jamie Ellicott, 35, taught French and German at the Heritage Academy. Sie also did volunteer work at the Heritage Museum and served as a mentor with the Renaissance Youth Program. Sie was found, like all the other victims, in an alley, this one in Swindon. Sie lived alone and had no close living relatives. The school administrators were the ones to report hir missing and were responsible for funeral arrangements."

Seamus held up a hand. "Ron, uh—about that. We'll be interviewing and I don't want anyone too brassed off to be cooperative, so how're we to know when it's he and his or she and her?"

Ron bowed theatrically and stretched his arm toward their resident encyclopaedia.

"It's pretty simple actually," Hermione said. "Binary gender classifications are typically eschewed by those with the Triarius condition or the transformation into 'third sex,' the development of secondary sex organs and reproductive system. The general public will usually try to classify triarii by their initial or primary gender identity, saying someone is a female-dominant, a triarii witch or gyrl, meaning they developed from identifiably female to triarii; or male-dominant, a triarii wizard or boi, meaning they developed from a male. The triarii themselves don't bother with trying to fit and say simply that they are triarii and use a third set of 'gender-neutral' pronouns to describe themselves. Sie, Hir, Hirs, and Hirself are used in place of He or She, His or Hers, Himself or Herself."

Seamus sat back with a nod satisfied and Ron launched back into his report providing detailed information on all of the victims: Leslie Fambrough, 34; Madison Thelwell, 30; Taylor Ablyngton, 26; Sidney Jeffcoate, 21; Chris Calcraft, 21; and of course, the face of their investigation in the press, Cameron Davis, 17. All were involved with the Renaissance Foundation. Though Gabriel was the only one to work for the Foundation administration directly, the rest were teachers, docents, researchers, and tutors.

"All of them were involved in some way with children or adolescents," Ron said once he'd finished the biographical information. "That may be an avenue to consider. They may be targets because whoever this is feels it's inappropriate to have children in close proximity to the triarii."

Harry frowned. "Is that a viable line of investigation? Is there a lot of anti-triarii sentiment when it comes to their interaction with kids?"

"There didn't used to be, but that's changed a lot in the last few years. It's similar to the perception gay men face in the Muggle world, that they're all paedophiles. The stigma facing the triarii isn't quite as pervasive, but there are those who believe that too much contact perverts children and encourages bisexuality," Hermione answered.

This time Harry scowled. "When did bisexuality become problematic in the Wizarding world? I mean, that's one area where we seem to have it better than the Muggles, in terms of acceptance of different sexualities."

"Things are changing, Harry," she replied gently. Harry's struggle with his sexuality had been extraordinarily difficult until he realised he wouldn't face the same kind of social stigma in the magical community as he would have in the Muggle world, beyond the grumbling disappointment of marriageable witches.

Harry harrumphed and motioned for Ron to continue his analysis. When they'd finished for the day Harry dismissed them, but signalled Ron and Hermione to stay.

"We have the interview tomorrow morning at ten, and begin the protection detail then. I want to observe Malfoy tonight, though, pace hi—uh—hir movements. It may not be anything, but I want a sense of who sie interacts with, outside of work." He raised his hand as the other two realised he meant to take on this additional assignment alone. "I don't know when I'll be able to give you both a free night together before this thing is over, so take tonight and enjoy it. I'll brief you in the morning on what I learn, if anything."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I don't like the idea of you going to follow Malfoy alone, Harry. Especially if sie's a target."

He shook his head. "In general, until we can determine whether there's an actual threat or if it's just some idiot blowing smoke, I'm only assigning one of us at a time to guard Malfoy. My going alone tonight poses no real danger. So stop worrying, Mione." He smiled at his friend. "Now go on, you two, go out for dinner or dancing or something."

Ron grinned and he drew his wife's hand over his arm. "You 'eard 'im, Mione, we've orders to go have a good time." He steered his eye-rolling wife away as she unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a giggle, then chuckling, tossed over his shoulder, "Have fun babysitting Malfoy tonight, Harry. I don't envy you!"

Harry smirked as his friends stepped onto the lift, and shook his head at Ron's antics. The ginger man could be incredibly proficient and intuitive in his professional duties, but at heart he was the same brash, brave friend and jokester of their youth, with a hair-trigger temper and deep-seated principles. He hoped for all their sakes that Ron would behave around Malfoy, since it was a given that Malfoy would provoke him at every opportunity.

Harry made a note to take some headache potion before it got too late, as he could feel a migraine building behind his eyes, and turned to head for his own office to pack up for the day and begin his surveillance. It was definitely a crap day and only getting worse.

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**A/N: **So...that sie and hir thrown in now and again are not typos, get used to them because all references to triarii characters from this point on will be made using gender-neutral pronouns (no I didn't make them up). Let me know what you think, hit that little purple button and review! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, writing for fun not profit. Harry Potter and co. belong to JKR.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! They are much appreciated!! Warning: gender neutral pronouns ahead... Sieshe/he Hirher/him Hirselfherself/himself

And major thanks to Mamcita-san and refuz2luz, any remaining errors are the fault of my being hard-headed.

**2.**

Harry Apparated to an alley that butted up against the large converted warehouse that was now the headquarters of the Renaissance Foundation. From the outside it looked like any of its counterparts, and through the large front windows Harry could see a single guard garbed in the uniform of a Muggle security guard at a desk in front of several huge fireplaces. He could feel the Notice-me-not spells and anti-Muggle wards layered over the glass doors. Likely, most Muggles saw only a uniform wall of paned glass rather than the doors where a heavy brass placard with the words "Renaissance Foundation" hung. If one were to somehow get inside, he was sure the grates for the Floo Network would be invisible and their interaction with the disguised security wizard wholly unnotable.

He'd waited over an hour before his Signatus, a device used to track magical signatures, among other things, chimed to alert him that his target had left the building. Seconds later the device, which looked like a Muggle PDA though it ran on magic, flashed the coordinates of Malfoy's new location. According to his Signatus it was a public Wizarding locale with standard wards in effect, so Harry followed.

He was not surprised when he reappeared on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, now home of the Heritage Museum, Heritage House, and Heritage Academy. To the shock of many, Malfoy had managed to keep the entirety of hir inheritance upon the deaths of hir parents. Public sentiment was somewhat mollified, however, when sie announced shortly after the final escrow that the main house and its collections, minus the Dark artefacts confiscated by the Ministry, would become a museum, and that the largest outbuilding, a "guest cottage" nearly the size of a small mansion house, would be turned into a school. The lavish gardens and conservatory were now open to the public and maintained by a trust established through the museum.

Harry Disillusioned himself and followed the robed triarii, whose white-blond hair was like a beacon, down the wide gravel paths of a smaller side garden. Malfoy walked for nearly a mile, then disappeared through a well hidden door in a hedgerow.

Harry used his Signatus to check the door. It was heavily warded with some nasty, though legal hexes built in and was keyed to Malfoy's magical signature. Luckily, the area behind the door was still under the Manor's anti-Apparation wards, so Malfoy would have to come back through if sie left at any time during the night.

Frustrated because he had no way of knowing what sorts of things his boyhood rival was getting up to behind the door, Harry Transfigured a stone into a comfortable armchair and prepared for a long night.

He was lightly dozing when the door reopened around 11:30. Startled, Harry nearly fell out of his chair, breaking his cover. Luckily he righted himself in time and near silently, though Malfoy had looked around suspiciously before resetting the door's wards and heading off down the path. Harry returned the stone to its original state and hurried along behind Malfoy, who was dressed very differently from the finely tailored business robes sie'd worn earlier in the day. When they reached the edge of the anti-Apparation wards, Malfoy Disapparated with a loud crack that echoed through the still night.

Checking his Signatus for the coordinates, Harry followed shortly after and was relieved, when he reached his destination, that he was still Disillusioned. Malfoy was in front of a stylish looking club. Transcendence, the fancy neon sign boasted to partygoers. And Malfoy was certainly dressed for it, Harry could see now that they were under the bright lights of the city. Black stack-heeled boots, tight black brushed leather trousers, and a clingy, iridescent frost-blue button-up of obvious high-quality material combined for incredible impact, but also subtly accentuated the incongruities of Malfoy's figure.

Harry slipped inside while Malfoy engaged the club's bouncer in a bit of harmless flirtation; it seemed sie was well known here and surprisingly, if the bouncer's reaction was any indication, well-liked.

The interior was impressive, and someone with an eye for chic design had spent a lot of time and money on its layout. The gleaming glass and chrome bar was set up along one side of the large open space with a stage opposite the door. The area in front of the stage was bare of tables, perfect for dancing. And obviously Transcendence was a popular night spot. Every table was full, and the dance floor was crowded with writhing bodies. Between the smells of food, sweat, perfume, and alcohol, the air was thick, though enormous ceiling fans kept it from being too stifling.

The crowd was mixed: Muggle and magical, trendy straights, leather fetishists, drag queens and quite a few kings, stylish androgynes, and not a few who, like Malfoy, defied any sort of easy sex or gender classification, all there to mix and mingle, dance and have fun.

Harry followed his target at a discreet distance; Malfoy's signature hair colour and distinctive carriage made it easy. Sie seemed to glide everywhere, tossing about small smiles, chatting with patrons and servers alike. Obviously sie was a well known fixture here. However, considering there was a maniac after hir somewhere, Harry found hir utter lack of concern for hir personal safety annoying.

He watched out for Malfoy carefully, making note of those in whose company sie lingered, those who touched hir with familiarity, those who moved a little too close while sie toured the nightspot.

Harry couldn't deny that Malfoy was attractive; such a setting really showed off hir svelte form and impeccable style. And certainly others noticed, wanted to be near hir as though some of that ethereal beauty would rub off and enhance their own looks or appeal if they could capture hir for a moment or two. But Malfoy was elusive, never staying with any one or set of the club's patrons for more than a few moments. And though sie oozed fluid movement and sensuality, sie never accepted any drinks or invitations to the dance floor, though Harry was sure sie'd move as confidently there, ensnaring men and women alike with hir lithe grace.

Harry shook his head at his musings. As attractive as he might find Malfoy physically—and an uncomfortable tightening in his trousers was testament to that—he knew the triarii possessed one of the ugliest personalities he'd ever come across. Besides, this was only a job; it wasn't as though he'd ever seek Malfoy out socially, but it didn't hurt to look when the view was nice, he convinced himself.

For over an hour he nursed his club soda and watched Malfoy finish hir circuit. When the blond retreated up the stairs to the private rooms Harry quickly followed and cast an eavesdropping charm just as sie closed the door to a room near the back of the club.

He checked his Signatus, which was spelled to record and transcribe the conversation between the room's occupants, but Harry wasn't taking any chances that he'd miscast the spell. Whatever was going on, he wanted to have a concrete record. He was sure that despite Malfoy's being a target, sie was up to something illegal. After all, legality and Malfoy were two diametrically opposed concepts. And whatever he found, there'd be no edging around prosecution on a technicality with this case.

His Signatus was functioning at peak and he gave a moment's thought to the irony that the little device, an incredible spying tool actually designed by Malfoy for the Ministry's use during the war, would be key to hir downfall.

After a few moments Harry saw that his Signatus, while operational, was not recording anything and recast the eavesdropping spell at a higher level—Auror level. Evidently Malfoy had taken the now commercially available Signatus models into consideration and cast wards to ensure privacy from the less powerful devices.

Harry's excitement that the more powerful privacy spells were meant to protect sensitive and suspect dealings quickly turned to disappointment as he discovered that the conversation was rather mundane, boring even. Malfoy evidently owned Transcendence sie and the club's manager were just going over the accounts and discussing personnel issues.

Harry sat Disillusioned in a dark corner of the hallway for another hour, the most intriguing subject being a missing shipment of spirits the distributor insisted had been delivered earlier in the week. He felt his eyes glazing over when the conversation shifted and nabbed his attention.

"Are you sure, Draco? I've been hearing things. Chris says—" Harry heard, and he perked up immediately, blinking away the haze of boredom.

"Stop. This is exactly what they want, whoever 'they' are. They want us afraid, cowering in our homes—afraid to come to work, afraid to go out, afraid of our friends and families. The fear works to isolate us and makes it that much easier for them to pick us off. Trust me, Steph, I know all about inflicting terror." Malfoy's voice was wry. "Let's not forget I had the finest education in these kinds of tactics with the most accomplished tutors.

"No one is going to run me off or keep triarii from living the full lives we deserve, from regaining the respect and status we once held in Wizarding society before all these damned Muggle-borns and their misguided champions started perverting Wizarding culture with their bias and skewed perceptions."

Steph sighed and Harry clenched his fists. Damn Malfoy and hir pure-blood supremacy crap. Harry took a deep breath and released it slowly, reining in his temper and reminding himself that he couldn't arrest someone for being a bigot. He shrugged; maybe he'd toss off a tripping jinx as Malfoy came out of the office. Seeing the high and mighty prat fall on hir face might make him feel better. Having restored his equilibrium, Harry focused again on Malfoy's determined voice.

"—I want you to relax and tell your gossiping gaggle that things are in hand for now. I'm not waiting for those Ministry wanks to take their heads out of their arses while our people are slaughtered without restraint or retribution. I expanded the contract for the American security firm I hired through Renaissance Foundation this morning. A force of security wizards will be installing or strengthening wards at the homes and businesses of every known triarii in Britain, and providing secure transport and escorts. The Ministry may not give a niffler's arse about us, but I'll be damned if I'll sit back and do nothing while people are being killed. So stop worrying, all right?"

Harry heard Steph sigh again and the rustle of cloth. If he didn't know better he'd have said Malfoy was hugging the club manager, but that couldn't be right. And damn the bastard for hir arrogance anyway. Sod it; who did sie think sie was to be undermining the Ministry's authority by hiring a private security team? It was just the sort of the thing the _Daily Prophet_ would eat up, and of course the spotlight-loving git would have them play up the whole concerned humanitarian and community activist angle while they crucified Arthur Weasley and the Ministry for being lax about the citizenry's protection.

Harry scratched his head. There was an election coming this spring; were the murders part of an elaborate ploy orchestrated by Malfoy to damage the public's confidence in Arthur Weasley? If the Renaissance Foundation backed another candidate, would that be enough to oust Arthur from office? Would this new Minister be in Malfoy's pocket? Maybe sie was angling for greater influence or control at the Ministry?

His head spun at the idea that the murders could have been contracted to destabilise the bases of power in Britain's Wizarding community. As much as he loathed Malfoy, he didn't want to think that after all Malfoy had seen and done in the war, the triarii had been—could be—so utterly ruthless in hir machinations, so callous in hir disregard for human life. A great part of him doubted it; that had been real outrage and anger he'd heard in Malfoy's voice. Despite the spiteful and suspicious bit of Harry that could believe the worst of Malfoy, if he were honest, in his heart he knew these murders affected the triarii deeply and sie wasn't involved in that way. But it was too much to consider now; his thoughts and feelings were too muddled. They'd consider every motive, every avenue of investigation. He'd get his team to look at the political implications of such a set-up in the morning; it might provide a lead even if it meant Malfoy would come off the suspect list. He had to keep his personal feelings for Malfoy from colouring the investigation, Harry reminded himself, while the young powerbroker again reassured the club manager.

As Malfoy promised to come round during the following week to check on the club and see how well the staff was getting by with the security wizards who would arrive the following afternoon, Harry realised the meeting was ending. He quickly broke the eavesdropping spell as Malfoy left Steph's office, and followed the blond out of the club. Malfoy strolled as though sie hadn't a care, as though sie owned the streets—and, as likely happened everywhere sie went, sie garnered appreciative looks from the passers-by. Harry shook his head at the blond's audacity. What the hell had happened to hir Slytherin sense of self-preservation? Looking and acting as sie did, Malfoy was making hirself an even greater target. Harry made a note to chastise hir about being so high profile when they met in the morning.

He was some distance behind Malfoy as they approached an alley cleared for Apparation when he saw a group of four young men, heavily muscled and clearly cruising for trouble, follow Malfoy into the alley. Harry put on speed to close the distance but not quickly enough to stop one of the men from grabbing Malfoy's arms behind hir and another from slamming his fist into hir face. "Faggot freak!" Harry heard him say as he pulled back his fist to strike Malfoy again.

Harry ended the Disillusionment charm and called out to Malfoy's attackers. It caused the most cowardly of the gang to run off, but another stepped in front of his friends and their victim. "This is none of yer business," he shouted, puffed up with bravado.

Harry saw surprise flash momentarily in the blond's eyes as the gang's attention shifted to the interloper. Sie used their distraction to hir advantage, viciously swinging hir foot forward into the groin of the man who'd hit hir and then backward into the one holding hir. Despite the low light Harry could see blood was rapidly staining the crotches of both whimpering men and caught the glint of metal points on the toe and heel of Malfoy's boots.

The third man turned from Harry, saw his friends on the ground moaning, and slammed into Malfoy, taking them both to the ground. Furious that their prey dared to strike back, he managed to yank up a fistful of Malfoy's trademark hair and slam hir head once into the dirty pavement before Harry shot off a sweeping Stupefy to catch all of the alley's occupants. The struggling Muggle slumped over Malfoy's crumpled body as soon as the red beam struck.

Harry rushed over and pushed the downed ox off Malfoy and gathered the slighter mage into his arms, jumping slightly at the shock of electricity that jolted through him as they touched. "Ennervate! Malfoy, are you all right?" He shook the blond carefully. "Malfoy!"

Slowly Malfoy's eyes blinked open, revealing a dazed and dulled grey. "P'ter?" sie managed around hir swollen lip.

Gingerly Harry checked hir over. "Yeah, it's me. You were hit pretty hard, Malfoy. I think you probably have a concussion. You'll need a Healer."

"Nnno, 'ome. Go 'ome," the blond finally slurred out after an abortive effort to shake hir head.

Concerned about hir slow responses and the blood matting Malfoy's hair, Harry frowned and tried to argue. "No, Malfoy, you need a Healer. I'm taking you to St. Mungo's. Understand?"

"No." Malfoy scrunched up hir face and something in Harry wanted to laugh that as bruised and battered as the blond's mouth was, sie was still attempting a pout.

Malfoy reached up, Harry thought to steady hirself on hir rescuer, but sie scrabbled at hir own chest instead. A moment later he watched as pale slender fingers gained purchase around something dangling from a silver chain. Harry was entranced as hir full sensuous lips formed a soundless word and he leaned closer to hear what Malfoy was obviously struggling to say clearly. "Home," he heard finally. And before he could protest he felt the tell-tale hook behind his navel and was gone with Malfoy in a whoosh of swirling colour.

They landed with a hard thump in the middle of a smallish but well appointed living room where a tall, beautiful, well-built man was lounging on a settee with a book. The man started when they appeared but was on the floor gathering up the fallen blond in an instant.

"Draco! What happened?" He ran his eyes over the injured triarii and lifted hir into his strong arms.

"Who are you and what in Merlin's name has happened to Draco?" Distrust echoed through his voice as his turned a narrowed gaze on the bewildered Auror.

Harry shook off his disorientation and the confusing tinge of jealousy he felt at the familiarity with which this man (though Norse god was perhaps a more apt description, Harry thought) handled the smaller blond's body.

"Auror Potter," Harry said authoritatively, trying to establish some control in a very confusing situation. He was still tingling from where Malfoy had lain in his arms, and he didn't even know where he was, for Merlin's sake!

The tall man frowned. "This was an attack, then," he said, more to himself than to Harry. He looked up at a small portrait near the mantle where a young boy, maybe seven or eight, who looked remarkably like Malfoy dressed as Little Lord Fauntleroy, sat with wide eyes. "Don't just sit there gawking, Julian. Go get Helene!" he barked at the boy, who "Eep!"ed and ran from his frame.

The tall man settled Malfoy into his arms and swept from the room with Harry following. They climbed a sturdy staircase and turned into a simple bedroom at the top of the hall, where the man gently lowered Malfoy to the bed. Moments after they arrived a curvy, auburn-haired woman came through the door, wand in hand.

"Step back," she ordered, and she cast a simple diagnostic spell. She tutted at the results, which came much more slowly and faintly than Harry was used to, having been exposed to all sorts of medical magic from his many trips to the Hogwarts infirmary and St. Mungo's. The witch took a deep breath and seemed to steel herself before she cast three more spells, basic low-level healing charms Harry had learned during his field training, and an Ennervate before sliding into the bedside chair, apparently exhausted.

When Malfoy's eyes fluttered open, Harry put aside his questions about the drain the woman had experienced. "Oh, thank Merlin," the tall man breathed when Malfoy cleared hir throat, and he went round the other side of the bed to pour a glass of water. He propped Malfoy against his shoulder and helped hir sip from the glass.

"Lars?" the young magnate croaked, still disoriented.

"That's right. How are you feeling? You gave us quite a scare, Draco."

Tiredly Malfoy turned hir head to see the room's other occupants. Sie blinked rapidly, gaining clarity by the moment. "Helene," sie sighed.

"Healed me. Shouldn't have," sie managed before slumping weakly against the headboard.

The auburn-haired witch frowned. "The hell I shouldn't," she snapped. "You were a mess, Draco, all bruised and bleeding into your skull. It's a good thing I was here—who knows what shape you'd be in otherwise!"

Malfoy smirked weakly, but Harry could see the appreciation in hir eyes. "Well thank you, Madame Battleaxe," sie joked as hir voice gained strength. Sie shrugged, then winced at the movement and the young witch frowned apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I couldn't heal everything fully. You still have all kinds of bruising, and your head will be tender for a while. I think we should call—"

"No," Malfoy said firmly. "I'll be fine. I'm just a bit sore. It's to be expected from how hard that brute knocked me to the ground."

The witch's eyes flared again. "What the hell happened tonight?"

"Was it—" the tall man, Lars, began fearfully.

Gingerly Malfoy shook hir head. "No, not the killer. Just some phobe Muggles. I'm fine really." Hir gaze landed on Harry and sie scowled. "Auror Potter was just in time to save the day. And what were you doing there anyway, Potter? Enduring random surveillance is not, as far as I know, a condition of my probation."

Harry pursed his lips at Malfoy's cold tone. "I just saved your life, Malfoy. You could be a little more gracious."

The blond sniffed. "To you, Potter? I think not." Grey eyes hardened. "Now answer my question. What were you doing there tonight?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "The DMLE is investigating this series of murders. It's come to our attention that you're a particular target and I've been assigned your protection detail."

Malfoy snorted. "Doing a bang-up job, I see. Isn't the point of protection to _prevent_ injury to your charges, or don't I rate full protection?" Sie sneered, "What's a little battery when the victim's Draco Malfoy, right?"

The witch—Helene, Harry remembered—placed a hand on Malfoy's arm. "Don't upset yourself, Draco. You need to rest."

Sie nodded but continued to glare at Harry. "You can tell your bosses that their belated interest in my well-being is unnecessary and unwanted. I'll have my own security wizards in place by tomorrow."

Harry smirked triumphantly. "You can take it up with them yourself, Malfoy. Of course, since full cooperation with any agent of the DMLE is a condition of your probation it's likely you'll be making that protest from a holding cell at the Ministry.

"Then there's the question of your little Portkey. I'm sure it's unauthorised. I think my superiors would be quite interested in that." Harry paused while his opponent registered the threat, then shrugged. "Or you can work with my team and let us do our jobs."

Malfoy grimaced. "Blackmail, Potter? I didn't think you had it in you. Fine. I'll be a good little boichick and submit to the farce of your protection detail. But I won't have you or any of your little cronies interfering with my day-to-day functioning. You'll have to adjust to my schedule."

Harry shrugged again. "We'll see about that. I'm not about to risk my people because you want to go making yourself a target looking like a tuppenny whore skanking around town."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Get out," sie hissed. "You pompous, arrogant, self-righteous bastard, get out of my house!"

Recovered, Helene stood and pulled at Harry's arm. "You heard hir. We don't want your kind here. Draco, let Lars help you with a bath. I'll be right back." She pushed Harry out the door and shut it firmly behind them.

Harry huffed in annoyance. "And what kind would that be, miss? Half-bloods? Aurors?"

"Assholes," she answered firmly, one step behind him as they headed down the stairs. She came around and waved him back through the open archway into the living room. "The Floo's connected. You can show yourself out."

Harry was all too happy to go, but duty held him back. "I need to complete an incident report about this evening," he sighed, frustrated that he was having to play nice with one of Malfoy's snotty friends. He pulled out his Signatus. "I'll need your full names and contact information, please."

Helene pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips. "Oh, so now you want to do your job. _Now_ you want to act with professional concern and courtesy. I tell you what, Auror, you can have all the information you want once you've apologised to Draco."

Harry stepped back. "For what?" he snapped.

"Oh, I don't know." She waved her hand impatiently. "Maybe for implying that sie's to blame for being attacked tonight? All you Ministry bigots are the fucking same. Blame the victim; it must be their fault for being in the wrong area, or flaunting themselves, or being different—whatever excuse works for you, right? That's why it's taken eight deaths before you self-righteous pricks would get off your asses to try and find these murdering psychos, isn't it? You all figure it must've been their fault for getting killed because they're triarii and don't fit into the nice neat boxes all the gung-ho Muggle-borns love so much."

"I don't know who you think you're talking about, miss." Harry brandished an accusatory finger. "But the only bigots around here are people like you and Malfoy, who think pure-bloods are better than everyone else. The Ministry is committed to the protection of every citizen. We're not the ones who think worth is based on bloodlines."

Helene shook her head. "Gods, it's even worse than sie said. You people really are completely stupid, aren't you? It's so ingrained you don't even see it. Look, I don't want to talk to you. You're arrogant, self-righteous, and ignorant, which is a bad combination. Just go apologise to Draco, take my information for your statement, and get the hell out of here."

Furious at her dismissal, Harry turned on his heel. "Fine." He stormed up the stairs before he realised he was on his way to apologise to Draco Malfoy, and that stopped him flat. Why in Merlin's name should he apologise? All right, he had maybe, vaguely, indirectly hinted that Malfoy was at fault for the evening's assault by dressing alluringly and going to the nightclub. And such an implication was uncharitable, unprofessional, and, well, wrong as it did in fact blame the victim for the assailant's actions... But it was Malfoy! He shouldn't have to apologise for _anything_ he said to that git. Of course, treating someone—anyone—who had been assaulted in such a callous, cavalier way wholly discounted their feelings, their dignity, their humanity... Harry dropped his head as his conscience kicked in. He _was_ going to apologise to Draco Malfoy. He mounted the last steps and knocked softly on the door before pushing it open. "Malfoy, look, I—"

Harry didn't get any further as his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. Malfoy lay atop the bedclothes, hir long, ice-blond hair spilling over hir face and the pillowcases as Lars kneeled beside hir, stroking some kind of salve into hir moonlight pale skin that left a light sheen in its wake. The lustre accentuated every line and curve of the younger triarii's musculature, from hir toned shoulders down hir long back to the rounded curve of hir pert buttocks. Forgetting just who he was watching, Harry suddenly felt he was the lowest of all life forms to have hurt such a beautiful creature in any way. "Sorry," he whispered, slipping back through the door, and it came as a surprise to him that he really meant it.

Helene was waiting for him when he returned to the living room. "Well?" she demanded, arms akimbo.

Harry blushed. "I-I didn't—he was—they were—he and his lover were, uh—sharing an...erm...intimate moment. I didn't want to intrude." He rushed out finally, completely forgetting the crash course in gender-neutral pronouns. Then he balked in mortification as the young witch began to laugh. Hard. Near hysterically, holding her belly, until the tears ran.

"H-hir—you thought—oh gods. Draco and Lars..." She continued to snicker as Harry grew more and more red with embarrassment and frustration. Helene flung herself into one of the fireside armchairs finally and wiped away her tears of mirth. "What exactly did you see, Auror?" she asked around a snicker.

Harry's face was on fire. "W-well, Mal-Malfoy was naked and and hi-hir, um...Lars? He was rub-rubbing…into hir, um, Malfoy's skin, and so you see, they—um..."

Helene smirked and raised her brow. "I see. So _my husband_ was applying Brenner's Bruise Banishing Balm to Draco's naked back and you just assumed they were the midst of trysting. Tell me, Auror…Potter, is it? Does everyone in the Auror force jump to such amazingly erroneous conclusions based on their own perceptions of things, or do your people occasionally stick around for the full story and an examination of the evidence?"

Harry bristled, but was chastened by the observation. He had jumped to a conclusion based on what he thought he knew.

"Sit down, Auror; I'm going to answer whatever questions you have now so you can go complete your little report. My dearest friend has been attacked tonight and is ailing. I'd like to check on hir once more before Lars and I retire to bed." The bright and laughing spirit of a few moments before was gone; in her place was a stiff-backed woman, wholly annoyed with the attitudes displayed by this agent of the DMLE.

Harry cleared his throat and activated his Signatus. "First, what is your full name?" he asked, then checked the screen to make sure the Signatus was recording correctly.

"Helene Davida Raedler, _née_Duquesne."

"Your age?"

"Thirty-one."

"Where and with whom do you live, Mrs. Raedler?"

"I live in the gardener's cottage on the grounds of the Malfoys' Wiltshire estate with my husband, Lars Michael Raedler, 32, and our friend and employer, Draco Lucien Malfoy, 26."

Harry nodded his appreciation at her full answer, though he was surprised that the couple actually shared the house with Malfoy. He supposed at this point he needed to stop assuming things or he'd be too busy dealing with his surprise to effectively conduct an investigation.

"And what are your positions here?"

"My title is housekeeper. My husband is the groundskeeper."

"Please describe in your own words what happened this evening."

"I was in the kitchen tidying up when Julian Malfoy came from his portrait to fetch me because Lars said that Draco was hurt. Julian is Draco's cousin, by the way. I picked up the medical kit we keep in the kitchen for emergencies and followed Julian to the living room. I saw there was a lot of blood on the carpet, but Lars and Draco were gone so I went upstairs to Draco's bedroom, where I thought Lars would take hir. I arrived in the room and saw that Draco was badly injured and began to cast diagnostic and healing spells. Because of my low-level magical ability I was quickly exhausted and had to stop before I'd fully healed all of hir injuries."

Again Harry was surprised; magical healing was draining, but beyond battlefield conditions he'd never known anyone who'd experienced Healer's drain. Helene answered his look.

"Intermarriage with Muggles has nearly bred the magic completely out of my family. Both Lars and I have too little innate magic to have even attended a magical school. We're both nearly Squibs."

"That's elitist pure-blood propaganda. Magic can't be diluted through intermarriage," Harry answered automatically, countering a widely held myth.

Helene looked at him as though he were completely stupid. "Who told you that?" she demanded angrily.

He sighed; he'd forgotten where he was. "Sorry. Look, I don't want to get into a political debate with you. Let's just continue, shall we?"

Auburn curls tossed violently from side to side. "No. I want to know how you can just dismiss thousands of years of study and history—Ameinias, for one. Didn't you study the History of Magic and Magical Theory in school? Empedocles—what of him? Do you just dismiss him as well? This isn't 'pure-blood propaganda', as you said; it's thousands of years of magical knowledge and research that's been retested and reproven." She frowned. "I don't get it. How can you not know these things? It's physiognomy, not philosophy. For Merlin's sake, Auror, what the hell do they teach you at this Hogwarts? No wonder the Brits are so friggin' ignorant about magical heritage. This is basic. Gods, no wonder there are so many social problems."

Harry waved off her little spiel. "There are no problems. Britain's magical community is very self-aware and cohesive now that we've gotten rid of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. They were the ones spreading dissention and prejudice."

Helene nodded. "Well yeah, from what Draco said that Voldemort character was a nut job. All violence and genocide to cover for his own psychosis and insecurity. But there's nothing wrong with being honest about bloodlines. Didn't you study genealogy and genetics? I'm not lying to you, Auror; magic can be bred out of people. Lars and I are living proof. In fact, because we both come from old American family lines with distinguished names, our parents, in a desperate attempt to keep magic alive in our families, wanted both of us to marry magically powerful people. Too bad for them; we fell in love with each other." She shrugged.

Harry frowned and redirected the conversation, unwilling to consider the implications of Helene's assertions. "Let's return to the events of this evening."

"All right," she huffed. "Let's see…oh, I was recovering beside Draco's bed when sie woke up. I asked hir how sie was feeling, I think, and what happened. Sie said sie felt fine and admonished me for using so much magic to heal hir since sie knows it'll be days before my system works up enough of a reserve to perform the most basic spells. Sie said sie was attacked by homophobic Muggles and that Auror…Potter had come to assist hir. Sie asked Auror Potter why he was on the scene. Auror Potter refused to answer at first, then shot off some flip reply." She paused and glared at Harry.

"Draco and Auror Potter had a brief verbal exchange in which Auror Potter implied that Draco invited the attack by not being dressed like a cleric while out at night for social purposes." Harry cringed slightly at her glare and the way her statement was bound to be read in his report.

"Draco was very upset by what was said and told Auror Potter to leave. I escorted Auror Potter from the room, leaving instructions for my husband to bathe Draco, who was still covered in blood and grime from the attack. I brought Auror Potter to the cottage's living room so he could Floo home, when he asked me to give a full statement as I'm doing now."

Helene's lips were a tight line as she revisited her earlier anger. And Harry felt guilty that he hadn't bothered to wait for Draco to be cleaned of the evidence of the attack before he'd baited him. He felt like a heel, picking at someone swimming in the scent of hir own blood and fear and hir assailants' sweat so soon after sie'd been so badly injured and wasn't recovered in any real way.

"Uh—thank you, Mrs. Raedler, for your time and consideration," Harry managed, though he wouldn't meet her eyes.

She nodded curtly. "I suppose you're welcome, Auror Potter. Please leave now. I need to check Draco and make sure that becoming agitated so soon after the healing didn't have any deleterious effects."

Harry sighed and shut down his Signatus. "Tell hir that part of my team will meet with hir at ten tomorrow morning, and that I'm sorry about tonight—er, please," he added self-consciously. "I doubt sie heard me before." Harry reddened a little. "I rushed out so quickly. I'm sorry about making assumptions too. That was very unprofessional of me."

Helene shrugged in dismissal and waved at the fireplace. "From what I've seen, Auror Potter, you're very unprofessional a lot of the time."

She turned away from him as he threw the shimmering powder into the flames and called out for the Auror Department. From there he'd head home, hopefully bringing a welcome end to what had been a horrible day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, writing for fun not profit. Harry Potter and co. belong to JKR.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! And thanks to Mamacita-san and refuz2luz!

**3.**

The next morning, unsettled by Helene's assertions, Harry went into work early and used the Auror's Floo connection to Floo to Hogwarts.

"Auror Potter," the Headmistress greeted him, proudly using his title, just as she had every time she'd seen him in the five years since he'd graduated from his abbreviated Auror academy training. "What a pleasant surprise. How are you this morning?"

Harry grinned sheepishly, always feeling a bit the schoolboy in front of his old Head of House. "I'm well, considering, Headmistress. How are you?"

"Minerva," she reproached him. "And I am also well, considering, Harry," she said, her smile fading. "The death of a student is never weathered easily at an institution such as this."

Inwardly Harry cringed. He'd been so unsettled by the American witch that he'd actually forgotten Cameron Davis and the murders in his turmoil. "How are the students handling it?" he asked politely, now personally and professionally interested.

McGonagall frowned. "Well, for the most part Mer. Davis was very well liked, Harry. Hir death has had a profound impact on the student body, as well as the staff."

"And those who didn't like hir?" Harry asked, picking up on McGonagall's unspoken censure.

The aged witch folded her fingers and peered at Harry over her glasses as though she was assessing him. Eventually she convinced herself of the argument, or was satisfied with what she saw. "As you know, Harry, Hogwarts has long prided itself on our inclusivity. We have the highest Muggle-born student enrolment of any magical learning institution."

Harry shifted uncomfortably as he began to understand where McGonagall was going.

"Muggle culture is…different in many respects, and there are some students who have been unable to adjust to the attitudes held..."

Harry sighed. "So sie was harassed by a few Muggle-born students who aren't as accepting of triarii?" he said shortly. He didn't want to go round the long way on this. He could already see the day stretching out before him and it wasn't a pretty picture.

The Headmistress frowned at him for interrupting but nodded firmly. "Yes. There were several incidents of harassment before hir death, and now, well, there have been a number of distasteful displays and inappropriate commentary in support of the killings."

Harry blinked. "In _support_ of the killings?"

"There are those who considered Cameron Davis an aberration of nature, Harry. They feel these killings are—" the Headmistress shuddered— "'an example of natural selection.'" She shook her head sadly and reached into her desk. A moment later Harry had in his hands a tract that was so hateful and violent it made him ill to think that students of his beloved Hogwarts were capable of writing it.

"Copies of those or something similar have appeared in every common room since the attacks began. After Cameron's death, even more appeared."

"Tell me the students aren't buying into this," Harry said in outrage, waving the pamphlet. "It's as bad as the Death Eaters—worse maybe!"

"We haven't been able to identify the culprits, Harry, and until we do we cannot stop them. Unfortunately they're going after young, impressionable minds. Seeds of prejudice and hatred are being planted despite our best efforts."

Harry flipped the tract, _Freaks and Monsters: The Truth about He/She's_, onto its face. "Are there other triarii students at Hogwarts, Minerva? Other _children_ trying to learn here who have to put up with—with crap like this?" he asked indignantly, ignoring the disapproving look he garnered for his language. Frankly he couldn't think of what else to call the item in his hand.

The Headmistress frowned. "I cannot give you that information, Harry, but I assure you we're doing the best we can to protect _all_ of our students."

Harry nodded. He knew how fiercely the witch would protect her charges and to what lengths she would go to ensure their safety.

"Minerva, who was Ameinias?" he asked, getting back to the true reason behind his visit.

He was shocked to see the usually unflappable Headmistress actually pale. "Where did you hear that name?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said firmly, feeling very much as he had during the war when older members of the Order were trying to decide how much information he should be told. "Tell me who he is."

Again the witch sighed. "There is only one reference to Ameinias in the Hogwarts Library. According to Purvis Goodman, who wrote _A History of Darkness_, he was a Dark wizard who tortured and maimed Muggle-born and dual-heritage wizards to prove his theories about Magical dissolution in intermarriage." She looked away from Harry toward the fireplace. "Albus and I argued for an age about that book, and about excluding mentions of Ameinias in the Hogwarts curriculum."

Harry felt ill. "Is it the truth? About Ameinias torturing people?"

McGonagall's lips were pinched. "No. Goodman was a sad little man, desperate to make his mark. He thought to achieve scholastic fame by challenging, or rather maligning, one of magical theory's great thinkers. Ameinias was an academic, not a Dark wizard, and his contributions are now included in the curricula of History of Magic and Magical Theory at Hogwarts. He was actually quite a brilliant wizard and developed tests and measures we still use to measure innate magical strength. He travelled the ancient world to test and interview hundreds of dual-heritage and Muggle-born wizards during his time. Not an easy feat, considering there were generally so few. His goal was not to provide a basis for exclusion; he was much more far-seeing than that. He wanted to determine what would happen to magical people if our society fully integrated with Muggles. It was with a thought to the future of magic that he began his research."

"So it is true that magic can be bred out of a bloodline? Why didn't we learn this?" Harry leaned forward, his face a study in concern.

For a moment Minerva McGonagall looked ashamed. "It is true," she said softly, and raised her eyes to Harry's. "Did you know, Harry, that of the four original McGonagall lines, only the line of my family remains magical? Oh, there are a few Muggle-born wizards and witches produced from the other lines every now and again, but it is a rare occurrence."

"No, I didn't know."

She nodded. "I'd heard it from my parents, but it's something I learned for certain when researching my family for my Genealogies study here at Hogwarts. The other lines intermarried so heavily with Muggles that eventually their magical heritage was lost to them."

"We didn't have a Genealogies course, Minerva." Harry frowned, thinking of what he could have learned about his family, about himself, in such a class.

She smiled sadly. "I know—another thing Albus and I argued over. And something that has now been rectified. You must understand, Harry, as much as I loved Albus, he was…his plans for Hogwarts were…well, Albus was conducting a grand social experiment. He was convinced that full integration was the best course for the survival of Wizarding society. To that end, he encouraged greater numbers of Muggle-born students to attend Hogwarts, though many will choose not to remain in the Wizarding world but will take their knowledge of us back to the Muggle world, though we don't prepare them for adult life there. He encouraged attitudes that were detrimental to Wizard-born, subtly intuiting to Muggle-borns and some more progressive Wizard-born that taking pride in one's magical heritage was wrong, a sign of elitism and snobbery."

"But it is!" Harry protested.

She shook her head firmly. "It is _not_. _I_ am _proud_ to be a witch and a McGonagall, Harry. There is _nothing_ wrong with that. What is wrong is thinking that being a McGonagall makes me somehow _intrinsically better_ than anyone else. That is where notions of pure-blood supremacy are prejudicial and problematic."

"Is that why you've affiliated yourself with Malfoy's Foundation?" he asked bitterly, feelings of betrayal tingeing his question.

"It is most certainly not Mer. Malfoy's foundation. But yes, I am involved with Renaissance Foundation; I have even allowed a Hogwarts branch of the Renaissance Youth Program," she said defiantly.

"Minerva! How could you? They're—"

"They're working toward maintaining our society in the face of Albus' grand experiment," she argued. "You left with your NEWTs, a powerful wizard with an understanding of a broad base of spells, but did you have an understanding of Wizarding history? Of your family heritage? Of Wizarding culture: our music, our arts, our varied spiritual beliefs, our clothing, our achievements and failings? Or did you just know Dark wizards were bad, Light wizards were good, Muggle-borns shouldn't be discriminated against, and all things associated with pure-bloods were evil and exclusionary?"

Harry flinched visibly as her words slammed into him. He hated to hear the lessons of his education stated so baldly and simply. It made it seem... "You make it sound as though we didn't really learn anything!"

She raised her brow, "Did you, Harry? Did you really learn anything about the Wizarding world? Or did you learn just enough to make you effective soldiers and good followers? Did you learn to exercise critical thinking, to forge your own thoughts and beliefs, or just to follow the dictates of Albus Dumbledore?"

He shook his head violently. "Albus was a great man!"

"He was," she agreed sedately. "But he was also a very flawed man, who placed his own importance before the good of our society. His experiment in the end meant more than our culture, even when the proof was before him that such an integrated society as he envisioned could not work. Tom Riddle came to Hogwarts, bullied and nearly broken by his experience with Muggles who disdained his difference. You came the same way, Harry. Albus felt the Statutes of Secrecy would one day no longer be necessary. Do you honestly see that happening, Harry? What would happen to us, in the face of Muggle intolerance and hatred, should we be exposed? And yet we take greater risks every year, to the detriment of all.

"Albus was a great man, but great men often make monumental mistakes. Albus eroded the curriculum at Hogwarts to a degree that is laughable. Generations of wizards and witches do not understand the hows and whys of their magic, only that it works. There was a reason I assigned so many essays, Harry, but what was needed was a change in atmosphere—one where students learned to respect _how_ their magic develops, not just that it does. When you taught the DA, you showed students not just that they could do the spells but how they achieved them. That was a lesson missing from too many classrooms during Albus' tenure."

"But we did learn—" Harry continued to protest.

"How to avoid blast-ended skrewts? No, Harry, I know how deeply we have failed our students. I have learned a number of interesting things since I became Headmistress. Did you know that no Hogwarts student who did not have private tutors has gone on to complete a magical university education in the last forty years? Our students are too ill-prepared to keep up with children from other institutions. They lack basic knowledge about magical philosophy, history, and theory.

"And greater numbers of Hogwarts students in the Auror service have been killed or critically wounded in the line of duty than any other school's alumni, because they leave here for Auror training without a firm grasp of the dangers posed by magical creatures, both Dark and Light. They have no understanding of the limited benefits of Dark Arts use, and are barely trained in defence against it.

"Be honest, Harry—did you really learn anything in Binns' lessons, or that fraud Trelawney's?" McGonagall frowned heavily at the thought of the former Divination instructor.

"Did you retain anything truly useful about caring for magical creatures from your lessons with Hagrid? Seventy-seven percent of the students who attempt them have failed their CoMC, DADA, and Divination NEWTs in the last fifteen years. The numbers of students who leave Hogwarts with more than three NEWTs has dropped to thirty percent. On average we lose five percent of each class post-OWLs.

"Open your eyes, Harry: Albus hobbled us. It will be a long while before Hogwarts is consistently turning out the highly capable students we were once known for. It used to be that a Hogwarts graduate was sought after by any of the world's ministries and research facilities as a highly desirable employee. Our own Ministry is refusing our graduates these days. Albus needed you all at home, to be good soldiers in this war. And you were. You all gave everything you had to defeat that madman, but you have been left with so little, and that is our fault. _My_ fault, Harry. I should have fought harder for you. We did not provide you with as full an education as we should have. It is a failing we are currently trying to rectify."

A heavy disquiet weighted Harry's shoulders as he considered what his long-time friend and advocate was saying. He struggled to refute what she'd said but somehow knew that she was right, and that shift in perspective settled like lead in his stomach. He'd often felt like a pawn in his old mentor's stratagems, but to consider that generations of witches and wizards had been used similarly to prove an impossible point—that Wizarding society had been weakened from within, through the very institution that was supposed to support it through the preparation of its children—was utterly devastating.

The Headmistress broke the heavy silence and Harry's brooding, gently leading them to a less contentious subject; but the damage was done. Harry's worldview had once again been tipped on its ear, and he spent the rest of their meeting distracted and distanced, trying to come to terms with his new knowledge and its inevitable repercussions. Heavy-hearted, he left Hogwarts and returned to the Ministry. At least there things would make sense again.

His team was gathered in Staging Room 3; files and stacks of parchment were scattered over the table's surface.

Harry took a deep breath and donned his "leadership" face. "All right, people, what do we know? Tonks, report."

The Metamorphmagus grinned and stood to go to the evidence board. She tripped, though, and nearly sent Hetty's morning coffee into Harry's lap. "Sorry." She grimaced slightly, finally making it to the board without further incident. Hetty just shook her head as she secured her mug, grinning at her colleague's usual antics. "All right. Well, Hetty, Seamus, and I reviewed Wainwright and Ricks' case file and we've also analysed all the poison-pen letters that were sent to Malfoy at the Renaissance Foundation."

Tonks waved her wand and enhanced copies of the letters were projected from the evidence board. "These twelve letters were written by the same hand. See the characteristic Rs? Our letter-writer uses capital Rs instead of lowercase, and the looping tail here," she pointed to the curved downstroke, "is consistent in every instance. We also lifted a partial thumbprint from one of the more recent letters and it's a match to a full print we have from the first letter."

Hermione was reading over each letter and noting the dates they'd been received. "The killer sends these letters to Malfoy after every murder. Why didn't they make that connection before?"

Tonks nodded. "Nicely spotted, Mione, but Wainwright and Ricks put their energies mostly into the physical crimes. They viewed the poison-pens as a threat to Malfoy but unconnected to the actual murders. It wasn't until we isolated letters from the single author and assessed them that we saw the pattern."

Hermione nodded. "So the author, our killer or an accomplice, is writing these letters to Malfoy to gloat and threaten." She pointed to the last letter and read, " 'Gather your lambs and lead them like the animals they are to the slaughter. I will destroy you and cleanse the world of your perversion.'" She shuddered. "Our killer sees Malfoy as a leader of the triarii community. Sie has been at the forefront of bringing triarii issues to the public eye, but is sie the only leader of the triarii community?"

"No, not really, but sie is one of the most recognisable triarii. Besides, it's not so much a community, Mione," Hetty answered. "Malfoy's been sponsoring lectures and gatherings to promote triarii pride. Once the triarii were highly valued members of Wizarding society; in recent years, the last few decades, I'd say, they've been encouraged to hide themselves, to be ashamed of being different. Malfoy and hir ilk are trying to reverse the stigma and remind the general populace that the triarii are an important part of the Wizarding world."

Seamus shuddered. "It's just not normal. I can't get over it. Blokes that are really birds, birds with bits. It's creepy."

Hetty frowned. "That's _exactly_ the kind of attitude they're trying to combat. It's not creepy. It's not unnatural. It's completely normal, and was accepted as such until more and more Muggle-borns brought Muggle concepts of absolute opposites into Wizarding society."

"Hey!" Ron jumped in. "You have something against Muggle-borns, Pendleton?"

The raven-haired witch sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "No, _Weasley_, I don't. I _do_ have something against people who are quick to silence anyone who points out flaws in Muggle culture and how those flaws negatively affect the Wizarding world. Fact: Western Muggle politics and society are based on dichotomies, dichotomies that had no place in the magical world until greater numbers of Muggle-borns brought those ideologies with them from the Muggle world into ours. Wizards have always been more pluralistic because the very nature of magic rarely allows for absolutes. Muggles, however, _like_ absolutes, and we integrated those understandings and started to behave accordingly.

"Now, if you've finished casting aspersions on my character, we have an investigation to attend to." She glared at the fuming redhead.

Harry didn't like the tension that was building between members of his team, though he could see both perspectives. He and Ron had grown up defending Hermione from narrow-minded bigots who equated everything Muggle and Muggle-born with being lesser. Any criticism of Muggle-born ideals was bound to get their hackles up. At the same time, he knew too well how invested Muggle society was in the absolutes Hetty had mentioned, and magic often threw the logic of those absolutes out the window. After all, how invested could you be in concepts like man and woman when magic allowed someone like Tonks to change her form at will? Or man and animal, when Centaurs, Veela, Vampires, and Werewolves were recognised beings of your society?

"Team, settle down." He called them to order. "Tonks, is there anything else you want to report?"

Tonks nodded pensively as though still considering the aborted argument between Hetty and Ron. She snapped back to herself after a moment and shook her head. "Um, yeah, just that as we can tell, there is a definite connection to the Renaissance Foundation here. Someone with access to the Foundation's membership lists is involved with these murders. We're going to start interviewing all Foundation staff with access this afternoon, see if we can identify anyone who's been acting suspiciously or accessing files when they don't need to."

Harry nodded, glad to be back on track. "Sounds good. Now, I know we're to start the security detail for Malfoy today, but I decided to shadow hir last night to get a feel for hir movements. It was...um...quite the experience." He smiled sheepishly as members of his team chuckled. They quieted as he grew more sombre. "It was a busy night. Malfoy was attacked by four Muggle assailants outside a club in Muggle London called Transcendence."

Hermione gasped. "Oh Harry, are you all right? What happened?" She looked him over as though invisible injuries would reveal themselves to her immediately.

Harry smirked and held up his hand. "Relax, Mione. I'm fine. Malfoy was banged up pretty good, though." Harry frowned as he recalled the accusation that he hadn't been as diligent as he might have been had the victim been someone other than Draco Malfoy. "I didn't get to hir in time to keep hir assailants from hurting hir."

Ron reached over and clasped Harry's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, mate. A couple of knocks might do Malfoy's thick head some good. Too bad they didn't knock him—uh—_hir _out permanently, eh?"

Harry shook off Ron's hand, feeling he didn't deserve the comfort. "No, Ron, that's exactly the kind of attitude sie expects us to have. When I got hir home sie asked me if I'd hesitated because sie's a Malfoy, and honestly I can't say whether I did or didn't. I could have Stupefied the Muggles assaulting hir sooner and I hesitated. The point is that if we're going to be protecting hir and working to solve these murders, then we're going to put _everything_ we have into the effort. Personal feelings aside." He fixed a hard glare on each one of his team, who all nodded their assent.

"Now, Malfoy has two people living with hir, Lars and Helene Raedler. I want to know everything about them. Seamus, you'll head down to Records as soon as we're done here to get started on that. Malfoy also told me sie's hired a private security firm. We need to know who they are and what we can expect from them. If things get hairy I don't want to have to worry about some jumped-up civilian that couldn't complete Auror training trying to take down our suspects."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Harry," Hetty spoke up. He nodded that she should continue. She held up that morning's _Daily Prophet_ and Harry perused the bold headline: "We Won't Take This Lying Down!" and the smaller print below that proclaimed, "Head of Renaissance Foundation Promises Personal Security to Targeted Community".

He tossed the paper back across the table. "Damn, the last thing we need is the media clamouring for a dog and pony show," he sighed. "All right, so who are these people?"

Hetty pulled out another file. "I did a background check as soon as the paper came this morning. Anderson Security Systems is an American firm with an excellent reputation for both individual and community security. All their agents are _fully_ Auror-trained, some through the American Ministry's Auror program and others through their private training facility. They've lured some of the best Auror candidates away from the American Ministry with lucrative contracts and the promise of more regular shifts than most Aurors serve."

Hetty looked up from the printed parchment at the frowns and scowls worn by some of her teammates. "Oh, don't be like that. They're not out to compete with Aurors. Actually the American Auror service has contracted Anderson's agents for several operations successfully. So we know they can work with Aurors and that they're aware that we are the representatives of the law and have final say. I don't think it's that bad."

Harry huffed. "We'll see about that. I don't see that our Aurors and Hit Wizards are going to take kindly to having a foreign police force move in and set up shop all over Britain, especially one that answers to a private foundation and not the Ministry."

Hetty shrugged. "We'll see how well our people work with them tomorrow. I don't foresee a problem. These blokes are professionals, plus they have an impressive reputation to maintain. They're not mavericks out for vigilante justice, Harry."

Harry frowned. "Tomorrow? What's this?"

Seamus nodded. "Joint operation. Kingsley's been on it for weeks, working out the logistics of coordinating an Auror presence in Hogsmeade with a private security force. Looks like Malfoy's just increased the number of personnel to extend protection to—uh—triarii citizens."

"The First Annual Family Harvest Festival in Hogsmeade, Harry," Hetty added at her superior's confused look. "There's a festival in Hogsmeade tomorrow, open to all Wizarding families. It's being sponsored by Renaissance Foundation. It's been in the paper for months. It's going to be a huge celebration."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "I really should start reading the paper. McGonagall mentioned it to me but I didn't think it was this weekend." He sighed. "All right, so lots of people are gathering in Hogsmeade tomorrow for this festival. It sounds to me like a security nightmare. There's a serial killer on the loose. Hasn't anybody thought of that?"

"I think that's the point—" Hermione started.

Harry waved the comment away, thinking about the conversation he'd overheard between Malfoy and the club manager. "No, I get it. Families celebrating. People gathering, not holed up in their homes afraid. It makes sense."

"Besides, the Security wizards will be out in force, plus our own people. The killer or killers would be mad to try anything there," Tonks added.

Harry nodded grimly. "Let's hope so, Tonks, but a few more Aurors on alert can't hurt. I'm sure Malfoy will be there, so it's double duty for us." Harry handed out copies of the duty roster. "Hetty, Tonks, and I have the Malfoy detail tomorrow. The rest of you are on call in case there's an emergency. Now, Mione, you were doing a profile of Renaissance Foundation. What have you found out?"

Hermione opened a bulging file folder and passed a stack of colour-coded parchments to each member of the team. "I've charted the business connections and affiliations of each of the senior staff. The red-bordered parchments are for the Renaissance Foundation Administration, blue is for Heritage House, green for the Heritage Academy, purple is the Isis Gallery, yellow for the Thaum Centre, and orange is for the Heritage Museum. You'll see there's some overlap in the administration of several agencies. Most notably, Draco Malfoy is the Executive Director of Renaissance Foundation, but sie's also on the Board of Governors for Heritage House and the Heritage Academy. Sie's also a 'consultant' to the Potions Development and Practical Arithmancy departments at the Thaum Centre, and a Trustee of the Isis Gallery."

"Smarmy git's got his—_hir_ slimy fingers in everything," Ron grumbled.

"That's not all." Hermione shot a look at her husband but it lacked heat. "Sie still holds majority shares in Malfoy Enterprises, which owns Malfoy Manufacturing Inc., and...Dragonheart Distribution." She paused, waiting for the inevitable fallout. She didn't have long to wait.

Seamus sprayed coffee over the parchments he was idly perusing as Hermione spoke. "Malfoy's behind Orbs and Dragonheart? What?"

She nodded. "It's not widely known, but yes. I can't begin to imagine what sie's worth. The suspects abound if we consider the killings may be targeted at Malfoy directly."

"What's this about Orbs? And how does knowing Malfoy owns more than we thought change the suspects, Mione?" Tonks asked, having taken her seat.

"If these are revenge killings or meant to discredit Malfoy somehow, then we have to consider all hir business interests. Right now Malfoy Manufacturing holds the sole patent and production rights for Orbs, AFRs, and Signatus devices. Dragonheart Distribution, aka Dragonheart Entertainment, provides eighty-five percent of the programming for Orbs and owns the_ Daily Prophet_, _Witch Weekly_, _Wizard's Quarterly_, _Modern Witch_, _Lumos Magazine for Young Wizards and Witches_, _Wizarding Times_, and _Wizarding Today_. The_ Quibbler_ and that gossip-rag _Aperio!_ are about the only magazines with high circulation they don't control."

Hetty whistled. "Cultural revolution on the quiet. Merlin, sie is damn savvy, you have to give hir that. So we also need to investigate anyone who's unhappy that Malfoy seems to control all the media outlets, or who wants to try to break Malfoy Enterprises' monopoly on the production of media and communication devices. You're right; the list has got to be monster now."

Seamus fingered his silver ear cuff. "How can Malfoy be in control of the AudioFloo? Isn't that regulated by the Ministry?"

Hermione nodded. "The Ministry monitors and regulates the AudioFloo system like it does the Floo system. But Malfoy Manufacturing produces the all the AudioFloo Receptors." She pointed to Seamus' ear cuff, then brushed a finger over her own. "It's their design and patent."

Seamus shook his head. "And Orbs too—damn!"

All the team members looked around the staging room at the two Orb consoles set aside for their use. Orbs, a combination computer, radio, television, and game system, had come into being two years after the war and revolutionised Wizarding life. They were in nearly every home, having replaced wireless units. They could project audio or visual programming and offered the beloved programmes of the WWN as well as new shows, dramas, soap operas, children's shows, anything really. Orb programmes had created vast employment opportunities for people of all magical abilities and were now a staple in the average Wizarding household. Orb consoles included a keyboard and printing station where specialised parchment rolls would scroll through a slot, printing off stored information or images. There were Orbs in every department of the Ministry, and several employees even brought in their own MiniOrbs; the more limited devices were highly portable and incredibly popular. That Malfoy had made a profit from the sale of every single one of them was a staggering thought.

Harry noticed that all his team members seemed to be touching or fidgeting with their AFRs. The ear cuffs, available in numerous styles and colours (much to the chagrin of parents with teenagers who insisted on matching their AFRs with their clothes), were the reception units for the improved Floo innovation, the AudioFloo, which worked much like the Muggle telephone system. On the upside, greater numbers of wizards and witches now better understood telephone etiquette, as AudioFloo procedures were much the same. (The Grangers, for example, were ecstatic that their in-laws had stopped shouting at them over the telephone.)

The thing was that AFRs and Orbs weren't inordinately expensive. Harry would have thought that with a monopoly, Malfoy would be out to fleece the Wizarding public. Then again, economics wasn't really Harry's forte.

As he fingered his own cuff—his one concession to stylistic extravagance, an extended silver band that hugged a third of his ear's rim with an engraved Celtic design set off by matte black antiquing—he shook his head. "Well, Seamus, I did say you'd regret ordering all those pay-per-view movies one day," he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

The Irishman groaned. "Oi, yeah, now that I know half me pay goes to Malfoy."

Tonks snickered. "Half your pay? You must be ordering a lot of movies, Seamus. So who's your favourite actress then? Liat Landon?" she teased, naming the Wizarding world's current screen vixen.

"Buxom Delite, more like." Ron tossed off the infamous porn-star's name with a chuckle.

Seamus scrubbed his hands over his flushed face. "All right, all right. Enough about me—er, viewing habits." He shook his head and tapped the stack of blue-edged parchments on the table. "Do we really think the murders are business oriented? I mean, this all seems rather personal to me. Our killer or killers may hate Malfoy, but I don't think it's 'cos sie's a business mogul. There's hatred for the, uh—triarii here. I think that's where we should put our focus."

Still smiling over his friend's embarrassment, Harry nodded. "I agree. I've had a few ideas about evil conspiracies too, but my gut tells me this isn't some sinister scheme for worldwide domination. On the face of it, these murders are hate crimes. I think we're looking for someone smart, but fuelled by an intense anger. This is a personal mission to them." Harry checked his watch. "All right, let's get to work and get this maniac off our streets. We'll review the reports on the interviews Monday. Hermione, I'd also like a psychological profile of our killer by then. I'll send last night's incident report to each of your Signatuses. Seamus, send the information on the Raedlers to mine as soon as you get it. Those on the Malfoy detail, I expect you to stay sharp. Dismissed."

Harry stood and was quickly flanked by his best friends.

"I don't really have to be nice to the git, do I, Harry?" Ron whined as they made their way to the secured Floo.

Harry smirked a bit and clapped his friend's shoulder. "I'm afraid so, Ron. Look, just don't let hir get to you. Be the bigger man." He looked up at his friend and chuckled. "Not that it'll be difficult, you being part giant and all."

Ron snickered. "All right, all right. I'll try, but I'm not above slapping a silencing charm on him if he starts running at the mouth."

"Ron, your pronouns! Honestly!" Hermione threw in. "And it's our duty to be professional. Whether or not Malfoy's grown up, we should set an example, not stoop to hir level."

"Aw, 'Mione, spoil my fun." Ron picked up a handful of Floo powder. "Renaissance Foundation," he called out as he tossed the green powder into the flames, his partners right behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**ffDisclaimer: **Not mine, writing for fun not profit. Harry Potter and co. belong to JKR.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! And thanks to Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for the beta!

* * *

**4.**

The broad-shouldered security guard in Muggle garb Harry had seen when he'd cased the Foundation building the day before greeted them as they stepped through the Floo.

"Good morning." He smiled sincerely. "Are you here for the symposium?"

Harry stepped forward. "No, we're here to see Director Malfoy, actually."

The guard checked his Orb and frowned slightly. "I don't see any appointments for Director Malfoy here. I'm afraid you'll have to schedule one with hir administrative staff."

Harry shook his head. "We—"

"It's fine, Danny." A cheerful looking man in smart business robes interrupted, stepping off the lifts. "Aurors Potter..." He trailed off, motioning toward Ron and Hermione.

"Granger-Weasley and Weasley," Harry provided.

The man smiled thinly. "Aurors Potter, Granger-Weasley, and Weasley have been sent from the Ministry for Draco's protection in light of the attacks. They should have full access and won't need to sign in. I'll fit them with security badges by the end of the day."

"That's fine then. Have a nice day, sirs, madam." The guard tipped his hat and returned to his desk.

The Aurors were left with their guide, who promptly stuck out his hand. "Mark Allenby, Executive Secretary to Director Malfoy."

This time it was Hermione who took the lead. "Auror Hermione Granger-Weasley, and my partners, Auror Ron Weasley and Auror Harry Potter."

They shook hands all around while Allenby repeated that he was pleased to meet them. When introductions were made he inclined his head toward the lifts. "If you'll follow me, please, I'll take you right to Director Malfoy. I'm sorry sie wasn't able to greet you hirself; it's been a rather busy morning."

He pressed the button for the top floor when the doors closed and within moments they opened again. "Makes a nice change from the Ministry's lifts," Ron commented.

Allenby chuckled. "It does, but I'm afraid only the executive lift travels direct. The other lifts do stop at every floor for memos and such." They followed him down a richly panel corridor hung with tapestries and paintings to a large executive office.

"Will Malfoy be joining us here?" Harry asked.

Allenby looked surprised. "Here? Why would sie meet you in my office?" He crossed the room to a set of mahogany double doors. "If you please?" He motioned them inside.

Harry gaped; the inner office was the size of the entire Auror department. Three long worktables banked the floor-to-ceiling windows on one side. At least a dozen Orb consoles lined another, the printouts scrolling onto the floor. Several couches, armchairs, and occasional tables were grouped in the centre of the room in front of a massive desk. A door behind the desk opened to reveal their reluctant charge.

Malfoy cocked hir head. "Right on time, I see. I appreciate your punctuality. Please sit." Sie waved a regal hand at the furniture grouping and strolled toward them.

They chose the grouping closest to the door. Hermione sat on a loveseat, which put her back to the entrance, but Harry and Ron chose armchairs that flanked the couch and gave them greater range of vision over the room. Malfoy took the longer curved couch across from Hermione as Allenby excused himself.

Malfoy stretched, hir olive cashmere trousers emphasising the long lines of hir legs, and crossed hir ankles. Harry followed those lines up Malfoy's lithe body, noting how the embroidered boatneck of hir wine-coloured tunic drew the eye to Malfoy's clearly defined clavicles and long, elegant neck while subtly emphasising the swell of hir pert breasts. Altogether it was a stunning effect, and Harry was even more relieved that the residual bruising from around Malfoy's temple, eyes, and lips had faded so as not to mar the picture-perfect image. The silence stretched on uncomfortably for a while and finally, annoyed, Hermione cleared her throat.

"I assume Auror Potter explained the purpose of our security detail to you last night, Mer. Malfoy?"

Malfoy smirked. "He said enough. I am fully aware, Auror Granger-Weasley, that whether I like it or not I've been saddled with your—" sie sniffed— "questionable presence for the foreseeable future. What you hope to gain by such interference in my daily functioning I have no idea, but let me clarify something for you right now." Hir grey eyes hardened, turning flinty and cold. "You are here supposedly to protect me. That is _all_. You are not to interfere or insinuate yourselves in my dealings in any way. And _nothing_ you become privy to by your proximity to me and my dealings shall be revealed to _anyone_ for _any_ reason. If I have cause to believe that you or any DMLE agent has violated my privacy or the confidentiality of my dealings, there will be absolute hell to pay." A chilling smile all teeth and threat emerged. "And pay you will, 'til the end of your days, and those of your children and your children's children. Are we clear?"

Despite herself Hermione shuddered. "Y-yes."

"Here now!" Ron sputtered, getting to his feet. He brandished a finger at the magnate. "You just threatened an Auror, Malfoy, 'at's a criminal act. Not even _your_ money can buy you out of Azkaban for that." Ron pulled out his wand. "Incarcerous!" Harry cringed, expecting to see the familiar ropes bind their charge, but seconds passed and nothing happened. Flustered, Ron tried again and still nothing. It was a ridiculous tableau: Malfoy collected and nonchalant on the couch, nearly dismissive of the flushed Auror standing with his mouth hanging open in disbelief as his wand dangled uselessly.

The embroidered bell sleeves of Malfoy's tunic slid back, adding a fragile elegance to hir impatient hand motion. "Sit down, Auror Weasley. Your alpha-male posturing and pompous grandstanding is unwelcome and unnecessary. There is a suppression field in place throughout the entire building that prevents anyone, excluding me of course," sie smirked broadly at the Aurors, "from performing any kind of magic."

"What? Malfoy, you little—! That's illegal!" Ron's face, already red, deepened to a violent shade as his temper set to blow.

"Enough!" the Director barked, sitting up sharply. "Sit down, Auror Weasley. I will not have anyone waving their wands in my face in my office!" sie said authoritatively. "Mark will provide each of you with a security badge that bypasses the suppression field. It will nullify the effect of the field. However, only security personnel have full-access badges. Staff and visitors are able to perform most spells, but the badges prohibit the use of hexes, jinxes, Dark magic, offensive attack spells, etcetera, etcetera. And it most certainly is not an illegal security measure." Sie glowered at Ron. "The same kind of field, designed by me I might add, keyed to personnel and visitors' badges, is in place at the Ministry and works similarly. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely and needlessly interrupted, these are my expectations of your behaviour while I am forced to suffer your...company.

"Additionally, my staffs, including my security personnel, have been made aware of your presence and know to follow your directives should the situation warrant. I, of course, will also follow your directives. I will not, however, tolerate undue invasions of privacy, nor will I curtail any of my engagements, personal or professional, for your convenience. Have you any questions?" Malfoy relaxed back in hir seat and folded hir hands over hir knee.

Harry frowned. "Unacceptable, Malfoy. We need to have a say in what you're doing and where you're going if we're to protect you properly."

Malfoy shook hir head. "This is not a negotiation, Auror Potter. Each evening Mark will provide your team with my agenda for the following day. Your team will abide by that schedule. I will brook no opposition in this. And I have already explained to Head Auror Shacklebolt that I will not have your team coming in and trying to run my life." The look sie shot at Harry was vicious. "If you don't like it you can take it up with him yourself."

Harry swallowed uncomfortably at the reminder of their exchange the night before but nodded curtly, a signal that he was backing down, for now.

"Now, since you'll be working closely together…Paul, Soren, if you would?" Sie lifted hir hand, and two tall wizards materialised from unobserved corners. Harry cursed under his breath as he'd registered no indication that they weren't alone in the large office; so much for constant vigilance. "Auror Potter, Auror Granger-Weasley, Auror Weasley, may I present Messrs. Paul Anderson and Soren Christiansen of Anderson Security Systems."

Paul Anderson was Harry's height, tall but not overly so, as Ron and Soren Christiansen were. Anderson wasn't heavily muscled like the other bodyguard, either. Sharp, engaging blue eyes revealed a keen wit as the lines around them told of his good humour. Wavy brown hair framed a face that spoke of dedication and long days in the sun. He was older than Harry and his cohort by a few years but not many; he seemed an all right sort. As did his compatriot, who besides the bulk looked an awful lot like Ron—tall, ginger, freckled, blue-eyed, with laugh and smile lines carved deeply in his face, along with a faded scar that split his eyebrow and ran the length of his visage, a grim reminder that he wasn't as easy-going as he might seem. He reminded Harry a great deal of Charlie Weasley actually, and that boded well for their working relationship. Still, their presence was a sign that neither Malfoy nor a large segment of the population trusted in his nor the other Ministry Aurors' abilities, and that rankled.

The men shook hands with the Aurors and sat down on either side of Malfoy to discuss tactics and security formations for public appearances. After half an hour Harry reluctantly admitted he was impressed. Though when Malfoy made to stand and Paul rose swiftly to steady hir, Harry's temper flared and he struggled momentarily with the urge to rip the American away from the petite blond. He was relieved that no one seemed to notice his reaction. The feeling of possessiveness he had for Malfoy was disconcerting, to say the least, and he had no way to explain it.

Shortly afterward Mark Allenby returned with the promised security badges and confidentially and anti-piracy contracts that Malfoy insisted each Auror sign before the badges were distributed, which happened with much grumbling and a few weak protests. Once he had his badge Ron shot Harry a mischievous smirk and casually tossed a Tarantallegra in Malfoy's direction. Before the incantation was fully off Ron's lips Paul threw up a shield that rebounded the hex at twice its strength and Ron went tap-dancing across the room. Hermione quickly ended the spell and murmured something about testing the security agents' reflexes.

"Right, just testing you. Good show. Really fast," Ron added, flushing in embarrassment as the agents turned their disbelieving and annoyed glares his way.

From behind hir desk Malfoy snickered. "Yes, well, now that Auror Weasley has so ably demonstrated the latest ballroom sensation, let us proceed to the symposium. Mark, I'm meeting Blaise at the station right afterwards; would you have Blinky leave the parcel for Anna with him?"

Hir assistant smiled as he helped Draco into a sleeveless over-robe the same shade as hir olive trousers and embroidered with wine floss that matched hir tunic. "Of course. Give her a kiss for me," he answered, straightening the robe's high banded collar and smoothing the shoulders so they lay properly. "And you should expect a call from Brandon Wilder at Gladrags on the way to Hogwarts."

Malfoy frowned. "Did he owl a proposal this morning?"

Mark sighed. "It's the same. He won't budge on the profile issue."

Scowling, the director picked up a well-worn attaché, shoved in hir Signatus, a MiniOrb with portable keyboard, and a few brimming files, and stalked across the office. "Fine. Call Marie; let her know to reject any deliveries from Gladrags and prepare the children for a shoot next Sunday with Moon Frog. Have Josette prepare the usual contracts and file the charitable donation forms with the Ministry." Malfoy threw open the direct exit and glared at hir escorts. "Well, c'mon then, I haven't all day," sie snapped. "Oh, and Mark, strike Wilder from the Heritage holiday party list."

Malfoy was nearly growling as they entered the lift. "Damn sycophantic bastard! Exploitative, profit-mongering, greedy little—"

Mark chuckled and took the attaché from his employer. "Draco, calm down. You knew this was coming. You planned for it. The kids will still get what they need. It's better this way really."

The blonde huffed out a breath. "I know, I know, it's just that Moon Frog isn't as ready as they think to handle the increased production output this will cause. I wanted to give them more time, at least until spring." Sie turned saddened eyes to hir assistant, and Harry's breath caught at the depth of emotion there. "And I just hate this," the young Director sighed.

"Gladrags should do the profiles because it's right—damn the expense, damn the profits. They're more than willing to exploit the cute-orphan factor, eager in fact. They'll not make their profits soar at the expense of my angels, Mark." Harry was surprised by the anger and resentment he heard in Malfoy's melodic voice.

"Oh, are you talking about Gladrags' annual donation to the Ministry's War Orphans Fund? You know they—"

Harry winced inwardly at the cheerfully offered question. It was Hermione's nature. She had no understanding of an uncalled-for (hence unwanted) opinion. She offered input on every situation because she honestly wanted to help and enjoyed problem-solving. But for her sake he feared the rising fury building in Malfoy's molten grey eyes and pinched her forearm in a futile attempt to derail her train of thought.

Luckily for all of them Mark deftly stepped in before Malfoy could unleash hir ire. "Auror Granger-Weasley," he said officiously, "I believe Mer. Malfoy made it clear that none of the Aurors assigned to hir security detail are to insinuate themselves into hir dealings. That would include offering unsolicited opinions or information in private conversations, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione looked away, abashed. "Yes, of course," she answered woodenly. "My apologies."

If any of them were surprised that Malfoy made no additional scathing commentary they didn't show it. Harry, for one, was waiting for something Snape-ish along the lines of reminding Hermione to mind her place. He was glad for the reprieve, whatever the reason. Close-quarters resentment would make doing their jobs that much harder.

They stopped on the second floor to let Soren off, then stepped out on the first floor at the lower entrance of the lecture hall. Malfoy, Allenby, and Anderson went ahead, as they'd agreed, with the Aurors guarding the entrance.

"Merlin, Mione," Ron swore when the others had gone into the hall. "Did you miss the part of the contract that reserves the right of Renaissance Foundation and Malfoy Enterprises to seek retribution for proven damages _in perpetuity_? Just keep quiet around that bastard. Damn!"

She nodded, chastened. "I know. I'm so sorry, Ron."

"Look, you two, it's done. It won't happen again. My guess is that was our one warning. But Ron's right, Mione, you've got to keep it together around Malfoy. Whatever sie says, unless it's a discernable criminal act, we keep our mouths shut."

She straightened her shoulders. "Got it, Harry. It won't happen again." She sighed. "It does make you wonder, though, what sie's up to with all these agencies and businesses, all the deal-making and hand-shaking and back-scratching..."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, but unless it's to do with our investigation or keeping hir in one piece it's none of our business." He winked at his friend. "I'm sure you'll have plenty to say about it all when we get back to the office."

Hermione grinned. "I certainly will. Take this symposium, _The Dangers of Muggle Pharmacology: Protecting Your Family from Muggle Medicine_. Who are these people? What are they even talking about? It's like they want to start a panic!"

Mark slipped behind her and cleared his throat. "Actually," he frowned, "we are merely trying to ensure the public is informed about the dangers that Muggle inoculations for childhood diseases pose to a Wizarding child's developing magical core, an issue particularly relevant to those living in predominantly Muggle areas who decide to send their children to Muggle grammar schools, and those of dual heritage whose Muggle relations might try to convince parents of the necessity of inoculations for a child's health. Healer Edwards, in charge of paediatric medicine at St. Mungo's, and Dr. Kelso, who is a wizard but works primarily with Squibs and complementary medicine, have been studying the effects of Muggle inoculations on magical children for the last twenty-five years."

The three Aurors were chastened and Mark continued, "I suggest that all of you stop jumping to conclusions about what we do at Renaissance Foundation. Director Malfoy briefed me on your…rather tumultuous history and your likely reactions to hir and hir work. From what I've seen sie made highly accurate predictions. I'd say that perhaps you need to consider that the so-called blood-purity bias wasn't just unidirectional if you're going to label every action of Wizard-borns suspect. And I would remind you that your comments, your opinions, your questions, and your assessments are inappropriate in this setting. You are here as Aurors to protect our Director from threat. Save your conjectures for your own time," he smirked. "That is, unless you're certain you won't violate the contracts you signed today by doing so."

They watched, slack-jawed, as he turned and strode from the hallway, his crisp pin-striped robes snapping behind him. "Well…" Harry began.

"Mouths shut," Ron piped up.

The three shared a look. "Mouths shut," they said together.

* * *

It wasn't much longer before Malfoy and the two agents from Anderson Security rejoined them (Malfoy evidently had only attended to make the opening remarks) and directed them to a large room near the entry hall's Floo. It was the only place in the building, excluding the Director's office, someone could Apparate into or from. A moment later they were at the Hogsmeade station where a carriage harnessed to four white horses waited. A face familiar to the Aurors greeted them.

"Draco!"

"Blaise!" The blonde was hugged thoroughly by hir friend and Harry bristled as their lips met in a chaste kiss of greeting.

"What's with the entourage?"

The magnate chuckled. "Security. Someone's trying to kill me," sie stage-whispered.

"When aren't they?" Zabini asked dryly.

"Prat!" Malfoy slapped the back of hir hand against hir friend's chest. "C'mon, I want to see everything and get to Hogwarts."

Zabini sighed dramatically as he and Malfoy entered the coach. "Of course. Why you would you want to spend time in my company when such a beauty awaits your arrival?"

Malfoy smiled genuinely and Harry was amazed at how such a simple act transformed hir face. "Of course. Too bad you can't say the same about the woman waiting for you at home."

"I'm telling Pansy you said that." The dark-skinned man grinned.

They'd barely got underway when Malfoy went still. Harry recognised the look; hir AFR had chimed and was now announcing the caller. He was proven correct a moment later when Malfoy raised hir hand to tap twice on the silver filigree cuff adorning hir ear, accepting the call.

"Malfoy," sie answered with a hardened voice, once again the powerful powerbroker rather than the easy-going friend. "Yes, hello, Brandon. I received your owl this morning, yes. Tell me honestly, Brandon, would the additional six pages really put you that far over your catalogue budget? It's six pages and could mean a world a difference in the lives of these children. Hmm…oh yes, I know, like a Goblin, really. I see. Well, I've considered it and I have to say I'm rather disappointed that Gladrags can't accommodate us. You'll have to break it to them gently, I suppose, but the children of Heritage House will be sporting the winter Moon Frog collection. No, I won't accept another proposal, Brandon; you did your best, of course. Get in touch with Josette; she'll handle receipts for—I really don't think that's a good idea, Brandon. Maybe the spring collection. We'll be in touch." Malfoy again tapped hir ear cuff twice to disconnect the call and sat back with a sigh.

"Didn't go well with Gladrags?" Zabini asked with concern.

Malfoy held up a hand. "Just a minute, Blaise, let me—" Hir long-time friend nodded and Malfoy went back to work. Sie tapped hir ear cuff again and spoke hir desired connection. "Gertrude Banks, Moon Frog Clothier." Sie fished hir Signatus from hir attaché as sie waited and began speaking nearly as soon as sie'd turned the device on. "Gerty, it's Draco…Yes, yes I did, now you can say I told you so." Malfoy smiled then elbowed Blaise as sie laughed. "Yes, I know you told me they would. All right, well, can you help me out? Yes, full winter wardrobes and accessories for eighty-seven children. Everything, Gerty, they shoot up like stalks at this age. Coordinate with Marie, she runs Heritage House, for sizes and styles. Mmmhmm, yes, full access to the grounds for your catalogue shoot as long as I get complete wardrobes, personal profiles for twenty of my children, and a central spread with contact information for the Department of Child Welfare and Family Services with a blurb on the joys and ease of the adoption process. Perfect. You're a treasure, Gertrude Banks. Of course I mean it. Oh? Well…Gerty, if you can make it happen next Sunday I wouldn't be surprised to see your Moon Frog adverts in _Witch Weekly_ the following Monday. Hmm…Whimzic Alley's commercial breaks? Possibly, I'll make some calls and get back to you about the soap opera. Get an express owl to my office and I'll sign off on it. Great. Thank you, Gerty." Malfoy tapped off hir ear cuff with a triumphant flourish and grinned broadly at Zabini.

His friend laughed. "Draco, you are the master."

Malfoy shrugged but was still grinning in such a way that hir excitement was contagious to everyone in the carriage. Harry thought sie was radiant. "Yes, well, my brilliance abounds. My angels will all have trendy new winter clothes and Moon Frog will be the biggest name in children's apparel by the time of their spring debut. It's a win-win. Handle things with the advertising, would you, Blaise? I don't care about the loss of advertising revenue. I just want to be sure things are done right for Moon Frog."

Zabini nodded pulling out his own Signatus. "It's for Moon Frog, so if I don't handle it myself Pansy will have my head. She's been trying to help Lavender really get this company off the ground for the last year."

Malfoy hummed and nodded. "Damn Gryffindor pride," sie said almost fondly. "Don't worry, Blaise, she'll come around. You know Gryffindors are a bit thick so it may take her a while to understand what we mean when we say that Slytherins always stand by their true friends and honour our debts, but she'll get it eventually." Both Slytherins ignored Ron's snort. "Pansy will need to talk to Lav about the increasing production, though." They continued talking logistics and production schedules, fully caught up in their business affairs, for the rest of the trip, making the tour of the venues for the next day's festival uneventful.

As the carriage returned to the main thoroughfare for the trip to Hogwarts, Blaise pointed to the tall rectangular case Malfoy's house-elf, Blinky, had left with him at the station.

"Gifts for Anna?"

Malfoy smiled and Hermione elbowed Harry slightly. "Anna?" she mouthed. Harry shrugged. Anna had been mentioned before but she was an unknown to the investigators, which made him slightly uneasy.

"Roses from the cottage greenhouse. You know how she loves them."

"True," Blaise answered. "And let me guess…gingerbread.

Harry was shocked to see a gentle blush warm Malfoy's features. Sie nodded and smiled gently. "Helene and I got up early—"

Zabini frowned. "You mean you didn't get hardly any sleep at all." He shot a glare at Harry. "Helene sent me an owl this morning, Draco. I know what happened last night."

Malfoy sighed and tiredly waved the inquiry away. "I'm fine, Blaise. Look, psychotics aside, I'm gay, I'm triarii, and you know how some Muggles react to people who don't fit in nice, neat identity boxes."

Blaise shook his head violently. "Not good enough, Draco. You have to take better care of yourself. Those damn Muggles could have killed you!"

"Not likely. I'm not completely incapable of defending myself, you know," Malfoy scoffed.

"I'm not saying that at all. You're fast, you're strong, and you know more hexes than most wizards living. But that's not the point. Merlin, Draco, it's not just about you any more. Anna would be destroyed if something happened to you!"

The Aurors watched with great interest as Malfoy paled. Who was Anna? And what did she mean to Malfoy that the thought of hir loss would impact her so deeply? Harry desperately wanted to know, yet somehow dreaded the answer.

A few deep breaths and Malfoy regained hir composure. "I would never leave Anna without resources," sie hissed.

Zabini cast a look of acute censure at his friend. "It's not about the money and you know it, Malfoy. She would be lost without _you_."

Malfoy turned hir head. "I know," sie said softly. "I _am_ being more careful, Blaise. I would never willingly leave her. She's everything I work for."

A dark hand gently clasped Malfoy's pale one. "I know, Draco. I just worry. Pansy, too. There's a madman running loose and you're our best friend. We worry."

Malfoy smirked. "I love you too, Zabini," sie said softly as the carriage came to a stop.

Harry did a visual scan of their immediate surroundings before clearing them to leave the coach. There was no one outside the main doors besides five girls wrapped in warm cloaks and sporting scarves from all the houses lying in wait on the steps. The Aurors exited first, setting up a triangular perimeter. On the grounds of Hogwarts it was probably unnecessary, but Harry had learned time and again that it was better to be safe than sorry. Soren Christiansen came out next and stood right beside the carriage doors. Blaise stepped down and then Paul Anderson who, Harry noted, placed his hands rather boldly around Draco's trim waist as the blonde left the carriage.

"Vama!" the smallest of the gathered girls cried and she ran toward the carriage, arms outstretched, bright white-blonde tendrils escaping from the Dutch braids that framed her elfin face.

In the next moment as Malfoy answered, three gobsmacked Aurors could have been knocked over with a feather.

"Anna!"

The blond bent and scooped the gigging girl into hir arms, bussed her nose, and pressed a kiss on her cheek. "I've missed you, Petal."

Gaping, Harry turned to his best friends, who closed ranks beside him. "Malfoy has a daughter?" he asked dumbly.

Ron blinked. "Well, that's something new for the reports."

**

* * *

**

Triarii-specific Terminology:

**Vamar: **Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam

**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews!! And responses for some are at my LJ. Please do sign them, it's a lot easier for me to reply when you do. And thank you to my fantastic betas Mamacita-san and refuz2luz!!

* * *

**5.**

In furious whispers Ron and Hermione were still talking about the shocking discovery of the mysterious Anna's identity as the small family said their goodbyes to "Uncle Blaise" and the group headed inside.

Harry, on the other hand, was transfixed by Malfoy's transformation and the easy happiness that existed between parent and child.

"I was so worried when I didn't get an owl from you this morning. You _never_ forget to write me," the little girl pouted.

"I'm sorry Anna. It won't happen again. I had a rough night," Draco explained, placing a hand on her small shoulder. "And then I rose rather early this morning."

Anna frowned. "Was it…you know…because of the attacks? Were you hurt?"

Draco shook hir head and quickly reassured her, "No, it wasn't because of what's happening. I went to do some business in Muggle London and was…detained by a couple of thugs. They were more stupid than dangerous, I promise. Then I went home and Helene and Lars sent me to bed with nary an evening brandy or game of chess," sie added with a jaunty half-grin. "I fell right asleep, darling. I'm so sorry I forgot my nightly letter."

A small hand reached up and squeezed the larger one on her shoulder. "It's all right—as long as you're okay, that is." Anna looked up and sharp grey eyes assessed Draco's condition. "Promise you won't worry me like that again?"

Draco bent and kissed the girl's hair. "I promise. Even if it's just a short note, you'll have an owl every morning."

A beautiful smile grew on the tiny face and Harry understood just what Zabini meant, that Anna would be devastated by Draco's loss. Very clearly sie was the sun of her galaxy.

Harry stifled a grin as the reassured child smiled shyly at her parent and the rectangular case sie'd reclaimed from Zabini. "Would you like me to help carry your bags, Vama?" she asked, all innocence and kindness.

Draco smirked, though hir eyes were with bright with laughter. "You're not fooling anyone, Anna. Goodness, such transparency! What is Slytherin guile coming to these days?"

Anna giggled and held out her hands anyway as the case was transferred. She popped the latch right there and carefully lifted out a half-dozen fat white roses in a cut-crystal vase. Her pink rosebud mouth formed a small O as she held the flowers aloft. "They're so pretty!"

Draco smiled. "Not half as pretty as you, Petal."

Anna smiled broadly at the compliment as her friends drew closer. "They're from our greenhouse. Vama grows them just for me. Aren't they lovely?"

"They smell so nice!" One of the girls in Ravenclaw colours nodded, leaning over the flowers to enjoy their fragrance better.

"Mmmhmm," Anna agreed. She drew one of the flowers from the vase and stroked its soft petals across her friend's cheek. "See, Oonagh, they're really soft too." She looked up at Draco imploringly, some silent request passing between them. Sie sighed and nodded then took out hir wand as Anna removed all the flowers from the vase.

With a wave of hir wand sie transfigured the larger urn into a single bud vase; with another wave, one became five. Sie bit back a grin as Anna clapped happily and shared her treasure with her friends. "Thank you, Vama!" she beamed as the other girls sighed and admired their gifts.

"You're welcome, love," sie answered, holding the last vase with two roses for hir child. "Now why don't you take the rest of what's in there and head off to the Commons? I'll come find you after I meet with the Headmistress."

Anna nodded and fished a warming tin from the bottom of the case. It was spelled to keep the contents perfectly fresh, if the smell emanating from the container was anything to go by.

Her eyes grew wide. "Gingerbread! Meggy, look, Vama brought me gingerbread!" She opened the tin to reveal dozens of Galleon-sized hearts with melty white icing piped around the edges. Anna lifted one out and placed it on her friend's tongue like a communion wafer, then laughed at the girl's blissful face.

"Meghan loves gingerbread almost as much as you, I know," Draco chuckled, then waved the girls off. "So go and enjoy it. I'll see you later, darling."

Anna stretched up and kissed hir cheek, taking her flowers in hand and leaving Meghan to porter the tin of gingerbread, probably not the best idea since she managed to slip herself two more biscuits before offering the tin to the rest of their friends. "I love you, Vama," Anna called out as the girls, happy with warm gingerbread and fragrant flowers, flounced away.

"The same, Petal," sie called after her. "And Meghan, don't eat all of Anna's biscuits!"

The girl blushed and swallowed. "I won't, promise. Thanks, Mer. Malfoy!"

"Thank you, Mer. Malfoy," the other girls chorused as they took off down the hall.

"I doubt Professor Flitwick will be so grateful, Mer. Malfoy. Little Meghan Collier will be bouncing off her common room walls all night if those stuffed cheeks are any indication."

The visitors turned to face the Headmistress, whose twinkling eyes belied her stern countenance.

"Minerva." Draco smiled, holding out hir hands.

The stony mask fell away and the Headmistress smiled, placing her hands in hirs. "It's good to see you, Draco," she said with genuine pleasure, a surprise to the Aurors. "And so well protected." She nodded to the security detail. "Auror Potter, I hadn't expected to see you again so soon but it is a pleasure, as is seeing Aurors Granger-Weasley and Weasley. I wish it were under better circumstances, however."

The three nodded, not wanting to offend their former House Mistress but wary of being a greater presence in light of their prickly charge's demands.

It seemed she understood and nodded back while waiting for an introduction to the Anderson agents.

"This is Paul Anderson and Soren Christiansen of Anderson Security Systems. They're my personal guards for the time being, and Mr. Anderson is head of the teams we'll have in place for the festival as well."

The Headmistress looked each man over carefully. "Pleased to meet you, gentleman. I trust you will act to the best of your ability in keeping both Mer. Malfoy and our students safe in light of these horrendous attacks?"

"Of course, ma'am," Paul answered. "Mer. Malfoy is a friend as well as our employer. We take hir well-being very seriously." He winked at Draco and Harry bristled as the blond coloured slightly. "And your students, well, we're not taking any chances with them either."

"Good. Now let us proceed to my office. There are some details I wish to review before the festival."

The visitors followed her past the gargoyle and up the staircase to her office, but the Aurors stepped back when Paul and Soren went inside. "We don't need to sit in on your meeting, Minerva, and there's some Auror business we should attend to while we have the chance." Harry inclined his head toward a small meeting room across the hall. "We can wait there until you and Ma—Mer. Malfoy have concluded your affairs."

"That's fine, Harry. Call for Dobby if the three of you need anything."

Draco nodded at the three as the aged Headmistress took hir arm. "Soren will come for you when we've done here." Sie inclined hir head. "I appreciate your...discretion, Potter."

The thinly veiled reference to Hermione's penchant for jumping into conversations and the inference that it was likely she wouldn't be able to hold her tongue in a meeting with the Headmistress was mildly annoying, even if Harry did appreciate Draco's acknowledgement that he was trying to make it easier for everyone to get along. He shrugged and herded his friends into the sitting room, calling immediately for Dobby since they'd missed lunch while touring the festival venues.

"So Malfoy has a kid. Didn't see that coming," Ron said around a mouthful of ham sandwich. "She's at least eleven, so sie was what, fourteen? Fifteen? You think he, sie uh—you know—that sie's the one wot were up the duff?" He snickered at the idea and nearly choked.

Harry slapped the ginger man's back and grimaced as crumbs flew from Ron's mouth. He'd had years to get used to it, but still Ron's table manners were atrocious.

"We can't know for certain until we check the records, but it makes sense that sie was the birthing parent," Hermione answered, sipping her tea. "Merlin, it must have been so hard for hir."

"Aw, Mione, don't go feeling sorry for the git!" Ron stuffed another whole sandwich into his mouth. "Mpmh, fee whus a righ' liddle shi' back den." Ron swallowed his mouthful as his wife glared. "Sorry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just finish chewing and swallow before you start talking next time, Ron. Anyway, it's true sie was awful in fifth year with that Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad, but maybe that's part of why sie acted that way. Sie was so wrapped up in pure-blood this and pure-blood that back then, and being an unwed parent carries a horrible stigma in those circles. Sie must have been terrified of what hir parents would do."

Harry tapped his chin. "Maybe, but how'd it happen if sie was only fifteen? I thought triarii didn't manifest until they were magically mature."

Hermione shrugged. "Usually, but there are exceptions to every rule, Harry. It's possible sie manifested early."

Harry sat back with his sandwich. "Still, pregnant at fifteen... And who's the other parent? We need some definitive answers before we can make any conclusions. That Malfoy has a daughter adds a whole 'nother dimension to our investigation. We need to locate the girl's other parent and determine whether or not they have a motive to be involved with the poison-pen letters and/or the murders.

"With Anderson and Christiansen here I'd say Malfoy has adequate security while on the Hogwarts grounds. We never planned for more than one on this detail to begin with. I'll stay here and I want you two to go back to the Ministry and learn all you can about our mysterious Anna."

Hermione nodded, making notes on her Signatus. "She's an adorable little girl in any case. I wouldn't like to see her caught in the crossfire."

Ron agreed. "She did seem a sweet little thing, even if she's a Malfoy. It must be the other parent wot makes her that way. She was even sharing her treats—unheard of for a Malfoy."

Hermione giggled. "Oh stop, Ron. Malfoy was very kind. Sie obviously knew hir daughter wasn't going to eat all that gingerbread. You're just jealous; I saw you eyeing that tin."

Ron grumbled as he stood. "All right, Harry, we'll head off now and add whatever we find to the reports for Monday."

"I'll see you Monday, then."

Harry sat and his thoughts and attention drifted as he considered the charming little girl and her va...vamar, Harry remembered the word for a triarii parent. Whose daughter was she? Had they been in love with Draco? What had happened to them? Why was Draco raising hir daughter alone? And why was it that only those close to hir seemed to know about the little girl? His musings were cut short by a knock on the door followed by the entrance of very welcome surprise.

"Remus! What are you doing here?"

The werewolf came in and hugged Harry before sitting down. "I'd just called for Dobby to bring me a cup of tea and he asked if I might want to join Harry Potter for a cup in the Headmistress' sitting room instead, so here I am. It's good to see you, Harry. What brings you by?"

Harry smiled. "It's great to see you too! Actually I'm here with Draco Malfoy—"

Harry broke off as Remus chuckled. "Well, it's about time, Harry. We've been waiting for you two to stop dancing around each other for years!" He settled himself in his chair and prepared a cup of tea. "Tell me all about it. How long have you been together? And which was it, did sie tell you about hir long-standing crush or did you finally realise that it was misdirected passion and a need to love that was fuelling your animosity? I want all the details so I can gloat to Severus. You know he wagered twenty-five Galleons that you two wouldn't come together until you were at least thirty, and I can't wait to collect!"

Harry blinked as Remus nearly crowed with delight.

He blinked again as Remus' face fell.

"Oh damn," the werewolf sighed. "You didn't mean you were here with Draco to mean that you're here _with_ Draco, did you?"

"Uh…no," Harry said awkwardly. He huffed out a breath and pulled at the collar of his navy Auror robe, which was suddenly rather tight and uncomfortable. "The Ministry's assigned a team to guard hir, with everything that's been happening."

Remus frowned. "Sie's all right, isn't sie?" he asked intently.

Harry was surprised by the intensity of Remus' concern. "Yes," he answered tentatively. "Well, generally speaking. None of this is easy, I'd imagine. Sie's receiving threats, and with these murders..."

Remus' eyes flashed iridescent amber as he growled, and Harry's own eyes widened.

"Sorry." The older man shook his head at Harry's shocked expression. "It's just...the murders, some of the things happening here at Hogwarts…I'm a bit on edge these days. And the thought of Draco or Anna being hurt—" he growled again— "I couldn't stand it if something happened to them."

Harry's brows rose to his hairline. "_You_ know Anna?"

Remus chuckled. "Of course I do, Harry. I'm her DADA instructor. Besides, she's my godchild."

Harry was relatively sure his jaw had bounced on the floor. "Her—her what? You're her—but it's Malfoy, and—"

Remus cocked his head and smiled a little. "Don't look so shocked, Harry. Draco is very dear to me. I think of hir very much as I think of you. Sie's my cub every bit as much as you are. Anna is hir child and part of my pack. Draco named me her godfather to honour that bond."

Harry was reeling. "But—but you're—and Draco's a—during third year—sie hates—"

Remus sighed and placed his teacup in its saucer. "I'd like to think, Harry, that you've outgrown the prejudices you had at thirteen as well. You're neither of you children any more. Draco has grown up. Sie's learned to think for hirself after blindly following hir father's dictates for years. Sie's lost hir family to a madman's genocidal bid for power over the Wizarding world. Sie's fought to rebuild hir family legacy and make positive changes in our society. For that matter sie had the courage to admit sie was wrong and fight beside us in the war. Sie brought to bear all hir talent and skill to destroy our enemies, some of whom sie once called friends, and to save lives, including mine.

"Now tell me, Harry." Amber eyes bore into green with an incredible strength of will. "Are you really going to dismiss such a person because of hir House affiliation at a school you attended more than a decade ago, because sie tattled on you when you were eleven and bullied you when you were fifteen, because sie made a mistake and didn't trust the right people when sie was a frightened sixteen-year-old? I expect better of you, Harry," he said, heavy disappointment weighting his voice.

Something clenched painfully in Harry's chest and he looked away.

"You really think there could be something between us?" Harry asked quietly after a long, uncomfortable silence had passed.

"See hir as sie is, Harry. Be brave enough to look past the silly Gryffindor and Slytherin divisions to the strong, courageous, principled, giving someone Draco has become and, yes, I think there could be something wondrous, something truly magical between you."

On the surface the notion was ridiculous. Him and Draco? But a part of Harry hummed with pleasure at Remus' words. He thought back to the charge he'd felt with Draco in his arms—something magical indeed.

Before Harry could make an answer, Soren was coming through the door. "They're done in there. Mer. Malfoy's staying for dinner and a Renaissance Youth meeting, then heading home. We have people stationed at the cottage for the night, but what about your team?"

Harry snapped back to himself. "I-I need to discuss it with Mer. Malfoy, but with your people in place and my team on alert I think we can get by with just one Auror on duty tonight."

Draco stepped regally into the room. "I'm amenable to that plan, Potter, as I don't see the need for an Auror presence anyway. Since I can't seem to get rid of you, however, I suppose limiting the number of your staff traipsing about my cottage will have to do," sie drawled.

Harry bit back his retort and took a deep breath. He held it for a count of ten, then exhaled slowly.

Remus chuckled and Draco raised hir gaze to meet the werewolf's eyes. "Remus!" sie smiled and for a moment Harry felt the strange jealousy that that expression was never turned _his_ way. It flared as the blond crossed the room and kissed the aged Marauder in greeting. "How are you? And tell me, what's this Anna tells me about an entire lesson devoted to Wrackspurts?"

Remus paused a moment, fixed Harry with a telling look and squeezed his shoulder, then moved to Draco's side and the two went into the corridor arm in arm, chatting amicably like the close friends they evidently were. Soren was already on his way and Harry moved to follow, but Paul held him back.

"What?" Harry shrugged off the restraining hand brusquely.

"You want hir," the American said baldly.

Despite himself Harry blushed. "I—"

"Don't deny it. I know the face of desire and I've seen how you look at hir. Seen how you act when I touch hir," Paul said more firmly. "I'm not your competition, Potter; what Draco and I had is long over. But sie _is_ special to me. Draco is an amazing person and deserves better than someone who's going to toy with hir and hir daughter's hearts. If you can't be serious then don't bother, because if you hurt hir you'll answer to me. Super Auror and Hero of the Wizarding World or not."

Harry sighed. Had he missed the memo about it being "meddle in Harry's love life" day? "Warning duly noted," he sniped, and pushed his way past the smirking American agent and headed for the Great Hall.

When he got inside he nodded at Soren, posted at the door, and looked around, realising he hadn't been here since the re-opening of Hogwarts after the war. A lot had changed in seven years, though the greatest shock was the mix of colours at every table: Ravenclaws with Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs with Slytherins. Yes, there were definite House tables, marked by the banners hanging on the walls behind them, but the students were so mixed in with each other that obviously those divisions didn't count for much. The point was brought home when Anna (definitely a Slytherin) stood and waved Harry over to the Gryffindor table. "Auror Potter, come sit with us!" she called cheerfully, and Harry was reminded that he'd never quite managed to be comfortable with the way all eyes in the room turned to him when his name was mentioned.

He pasted on a smile for all the gawking and whispering children and made his way to a seat across from the chubby-cheeked Ravenclaw who liked gingerbread. "Er—thank you, Anna," he said, seating himself beside her awkwardly as her parent chuckled.

"Not quite what you'd expected, eh, Potter?" A blond brow perked as the Auror's discomfort faded.

The volley wasn't spiteful, Harry realised quickly. It was a test…and an invitation. "The seats are a bit lower than I remember." Harry grinned back and the brow rose further as banter, not baiting, ensued.

"Yes, well, not all of us can be gangly half-giants, Potter," the blond mage teased.

"Don't mind hir." Harry winked at the girl beside him. "Sie's just jealous that hir feet still dangle sitting at these tables."

And then the most wondrous thing happened. As he waited for some cutting retort (though he hoped for more playful banter), Harry saw the Malfoy mask completely fall away and one of those winning breathtaking smiles was turned on him. And Draco laughed. A clean, ebullient sound that lifted Harry's spirit and warmed his heart. "Touché, Potter. Pass the carrots, if you please. There may be hope for me yet if I eat more vegetables."

Harry gave the dish to Anna to pass down. "Send those back this way when you've finished, Malfoy. Maybe if I get enough I can get rid of these." He tapped his glasses and Draco winked.

"I'd say those were a front, Potter, since you always seemed to see the Snitch just fine when we played." Malfoy tucked a stray lock behind Anna's shell-like ear. "Have I told you, Petal, that Perfect Potter here beat me to the Snitch every single time Slytherin played Gryffindor? It was uncanny."

"Every single time except for that year you got me banned," Harry threw in without heat.

Malfoy wrinkled hir nose slightly and waved the comment away. "Yes, yes, there was that."

Anna giggled. "You got him banned from Quidditch? Vama, how awful!"

"Well, I was an awful little boi then, what can I say, Anna?" Malfoy shrugged but a tiny grin tugged at the side of hir mouth.

"Sie's incorrigible," Harry chuckled.

"I know." Anna sighed with fond exasperation and dramatically rolled her eyes.

"You were a Seeker?" asked one of girls he recognised from the steps earlier.

"Youngest Seeker in a century and undefeated in all his years of play." Malfoy answered for him with a touch of admiration.

"But you're so tall!" the curly-haired brunette protested.

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't always. I shot up a bit between my fifth and sixth year, and quite a bit more after that. Actually, Mer. Malfoy and I were about the same size until fifth year, which is why sie was my best competition. We were both skilled and light and wicked fast on a broom."

"Though you always managed to be that much faster," Draco huffed with a small moue of frustration.

The sight of the mage's full pink lips plumped and pouting nearly eroded Harry's self restraint. He had never been so moved to kiss someone in his life. Had they not been in the Great Hall with all eyes on them and Draco's daughter between them, he probably would have grabbed the blond mage and ravished hir mouth then and there. The Auror coughed and tugged at his collar as he struggled to regained control. "Uh, I guess," he croaked, and blushed as Draco quirked a brow in question. "Back then. But you'd probably fly circles around me now."

A small, pleased smile was his reward. "Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we, Auror Potter? I don't fly much these days, but the chance to trounce you might entice me onto the pitch."

"Ooo! Before the relay races on Sunday? Please, Mer. Malfoy?" another girl wheedled.

"Despite all my protestations that I would never lower myself to partake in such a plebeian exercise, it seems Chloe here will not relent until I agree to debase myself." Draco sighed dramatically. "Very well then, I will attend the Hogwarts Open House on Sunday and participate in your silly relay." Sie inclined hir head. "And maybe there'll even be a game of one-on-one for the Snitch, if Auror Potter will oblige me?"

Harry agreed with a grin and a wink for the glowing Chloe, who was nearly bouncing in her seat.

"See, Meggy? I told you the owls would work," she didn't quite whisper to the girl next to her.

Malfoy brandished a finger. "Ah yes, the owl brigade. Chloe, my dear, I'm sure that Professor Lupin, as your House Master, has already made mention of this, but let me say again that monopolising the entire parliament of school owls to overrun my offices with invitations and pleas for my attendance at the Open House is an inappropriate use of school resources. As amusing as it was watching my staff trying to chase them all down, it won't happen again, will it?" sie admonished with hir question.

Chloe hung her head. "No, I guess not, Mer. Malfoy," she agreed dejectedly.

Draco reached over and ruffled her hair. "There now. I admit it was a rather brilliant plan, much more effective than a Howler. I may try it myself one of these days when I need to annoy someone into submission."

Chloe looked up at hir lighter tone and smiled wickedly at the adult mage's smirk. "Really?"

"Really." Draco nodded. "Though you should know, my dear, I'd planned on coming anyway. It was to be a surprise for the infamous synergistic quintet." Sie winked at Chloe's gobsmacked expression.

"Mer. Malfoy!" she whined. "Why didn't you tell us? Now we have detentions cleaning the owlery _without magic_ all next week!"

Draco chuckled. "And ruin my surprise? Absolutely not."

Harry tried valiantly to keep from laughing at the five near-identical pouts turned on Draco; tried and failed. He snorted and nearly spewed his pumpkin juice all over the table. "You're outnumbered, Malfoy. Give up!"

"All right!" the blond threw up hir hands. "I promise to make it up to you and not keep secrets that might land you in detention should you try to thwart my plans."

A kiss from Anna and a hug from the girl on the opposite side, and the magnate was forgiven. They all turned back to their dinners and ate heartily while Chloe told how she and the others had bribed and cosseted the school owls until they could convince them to deliver the girls' letters first, then, with a heavily researched duplication spell (since copying spells weren't part of the first years' curriculum), made animated flyers to announce the Open House and beg the elder Malfoy to attend. They'd unleashed the owls on the Renaissance Foundation offices every other morning of the past week. And sleeves fluttering, elegant hands weaving and waving, Draco described how the descent of 150-some tawny owls on the executive floor first terrified, then harassed hir senior staff. By the time the pudding course arrived Harry had fallen completely under the quintet's spell and it was with some reluctance that he and Draco departed for the Heritage Youth meeting.

"They're adorable," Harry chuckled as he and the triarii made their way to the fourth floor. "But are they always so—so—"

"Lively? Frenetic? Overwhelming?" Draco's eyes shone as sie smiled gently at Harry. "Absolutely." The mage sighed. "I wouldn't trade it for anything, Potter. I enjoy watching them act like children, even with their incessant chatter and silly pranks. Childhood is a precious time and they're living it just as they should. I—" sie paused and looked at Harry— "_we_ never had that, were never allowed to really be children. I don't begrudge them their youthful exuberance."

Thinking of the unnaturally poised and reserved child he'd met in Diagon Alley and the starved waif who'd lived in a cupboard under the stairs, Harry nodded and reached out a commiserating arm to pat Draco's shoulder. It was the blond who stiffened this time at the electric contact.

Harry drew his hand back quickly. "What was that?" He clenched his fists to keep from reaching out again to the now shivering blond.

Draco looked up at Harry through lowered lashes. "Resonance," sie answered hoarsely.

"Resonance? Wha—"

Sie shook hir head and pointedly looked around the seemingly empty corridor. "I haven't time to remedy your woeful lack of cultural enlightenment, Potter. Go pester Lupin later if you must know. Now let's get to this meeting. I don't want to keep the students waiting."

Confused by the return of a disdainful Draco, and angered by the curt dismissal, Harry nearly shot off a nasty retort, then recalled the mage's surreptitious look around the hall and belatedly remembered that they weren't really alone. Paul and Soren were Disillusioned and very nearby. Whatever was happening between them, he was certain Draco didn't want an audience when they discussed it. Harry knew he certainly didn't.

He nodded and was relieved to see the grey eyes soften. And knew he'd guessed correctly when shortly after sie led Harry to a small alcove near the Commons and later Draco called out to hir invisible guards, asking them to go on ahead. "I'll be there shortly, but there are some things I need to review with Potter first."

"'kay, stay alert." Paul nodded and he and Soren took off.

"Draco, about—"

The blond held up a stalling hand. "Later, Potter. I really did want to speak to you about what's going to happen in this meeting."

At the serious tone Harry nodded. "All right. I thought it was just a Renaissance Youth meeting, though."

Hir creamy hand flattened and tilted back and forth. "It is and it isn't," Draco answered. "Renaissance Youth meetings are usually held fortnightly with Youth Mentors in attendance. The students meeting tonight requested my presence alone. And before we go another step, Potter, I must have your word that you will hold the identities of these students and whatever is said tonight in strictest confidence."

Harry frowned. "You know I can't do that, Malfoy. If something's said that might have bearing on my investigation—"

"Dammit, Potter!" Draco spat. "These are children seeking reassurance. The last thing they need is Big Brother breathing down their necks!" Draco huffed out a breath, calming hirself. "Look, I think having you in the meeting with me will do them all a lot of good. Frankly, they and their families are rather disheartened by the Ministry's lack of response to the murders, and seeing the DMLE's most decorated Auror is now on the case will go a long way toward reassuring them."

The Auror's eyes widened. "It's all triarii meeting tonight," Harry said finally understanding. "But why would you care whether or not they believe the Ministry is acting with their best interests at heart? You're the one who's hired all this private security and—" Harry trailed off before he could admit to something he'd overheard following Malfoy at Transcendence.

Sie sniffed. "I could care less about the Ministry's reputation, Potter. What I do care about is making sure these young mages and their families are safe and feel that way. They _want_ to believe in the Ministry, that their government cares and isn't turning a blind eye to these murders because of stupid biases."

"Fine." Harry was still uneasy with the inference that Draco didn't believe solving the murders and protecting everyone was DMLE's chief concern.

"Oh, don't look so put-upon, Potter. You know as well as I do that it's only the public sentiment brought to bear by the press that got the Powers That Be to assign a team of competent Aurors to solving these murders. Those bumbling idiots Wainwright and Ricks would still be on the case otherwise. And only my very public position makes me worthy of a protection detail." The mage crossed hir arms over hir chest, daring Harry to deny it. "Sexism is an ugly thing, Potter, but sticking your head in the sand isn't going to make it go away. There are certain elements at the Ministry who are firmly invested in maintaining a Muggle-oriented heteronormativity and would like nothing better than all us confusing genderfucks to die out, painfully or otherwise. Wake up."

"Heteronormativity? Nice fifty-Galleon word there, Malfoy," Harry threw out quietly, still processing what sie'd said.

The blond smirked. "Yes, well, 'happily hetero' doesn't quite cut it in more erudite company."

Harry chuckled, then sobered as Draco added, "Don't think you've yet escaped their campaign either, Potter. The factions that are waiting for you to outgrow your 'experimentation' phase and settle down with your storybook princess and 2.5 children aren't exactly patient people."

Harry pulled a face. "I'd like to see them try. I did my part; I finally have control over my own life. I'm not likely to give it up any time soon so some chronicler wanting a _heteronormative_ narrative can make my life into a bestselling bodice-ripper."

"Good on you, then." Draco smiled hir approval. "And I see you like that word."

Harry smirked. "I'm planning on trotting it out to confuse Hermione with my expanded vocabulary soonest chance I get."

The magnate crinkled hir nose. "Hrmph. Granger-Weasley. Bright witch, but really, Potter, she shouldn't be in the field." Draco freed hir hand. "Don't get your knickers twisted. I'm merely saying her talents would be better put to use elsewhere." A long, slender finger tapped against hir lips as sie shrugged. "Maybe as a profiler or something."

Harry said nothing, as he'd often had similar thoughts. He jerked his head toward the empty hall instead. "Now what about these students—why the secrecy?"

Draco nodded as grief and hir concern for the students settled heavily on hir shoulders. "Few of these students are on the Heritage Youth rolls…yes, I am aware that all the victims worked with us in some way or another. That's why I don't want these children's names listed anywhere. Not at Renaissance Foundation and not in your reports. These are children, Potter, children! Cam…at least sie'd reached hir majority. None of these children have. They've all manifested early, and their age puts them at even greater risk.

"You know as well as I do that this monster is out there taking down capable, fully trained mages. What chance would a child barely trained in defence have? And before you go trotting yourself and the DA out as examples, let me remind you that you might have faced him, but even you didn't _outduel_ Voldemort at eleven."

"True. I see what you mean. But as young as eleven? Manifesting that early…is that normal?"

The mage snorted. "Haven't you cottoned on yet, Potter? Normal is what you make of it. But triarii bois and gyrls have been known to manifest as early as five. Premature manifestation just means they grow into their bodies in slow stages, just as most everyone else does. Early manifestation is unlikely, but not unheard of. Now, do you swear to keep their identities secret?"

Harry held out his hand. "I promise." After a gravid moment, Draco shook it and the jolt shocked both into a meeting of longing gazes. Harry held on as Draco relaxed to let go, savouring the tingle that was now becoming familiar with the energy that thrummed beneath his skin and smiled.

"It's—"

A deeper shock coursed through him as the blond laid a finger over his lips. "Ask Remus, Potter," sie said regretfully, shaking hir head. "Then come talk to me."

The mage pulled away and turned into the hallway, with Harry following. Midway down they nodded to the posted sentries and entered a small group study room where yet another surprise lay in wait for Harry.

There were eight worried young faces of varying ages around the table, one which was familiar to Harry.

"Anna?" He questioned the young blonde's presence.

"Hi, Auror Potter," she said quietly, firmly holding the hand of the boi beside her.

Resolved to get a straight answer later from Draco, who'd carefully schooled hir face to be blank, Harry shook his head and smiled uncertainly. "No, Anna," he chided gently, "I told you at dinner—it's Harry, okay?" He looked around the room and met the eyes of each child. "I'd like for all of you to call me Harry."

Anna smiled with a reassuring squeeze for her friend and nodded at Harry. "Hi, Harry."

He inclined his head. "Hi, Anna. Would you like to introduce me to your friends?"

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N:**It gets a little bumpy in this one. Have patience. Mamacita-san and refuz2luz, beta read this chapter, they have my thanks. And again, some review responses are at my LJ.

**Warnings:** Character assassination and rape mentions (nothing graphic), and ANGST!

* * *

**6.**

An hour later the meeting was over; ad as the last of the students left the room, Harry turned to Draco. "That went well," he began.

The blond triarii nodded pensively. "As I said, they mostly needed to be reassured. It's important to be watchful, vigilant, but if we can go on about our daily lives then we've taken terror, the greatest weapon this killer has against us, from their arsenal."

"Hmm. Well, I think these children and their families will feel safer after tonight's meeting. You did well with them, Malfoy. And Anna!" Harry shook his head. "Sie was amazing. Sie's a born leader."

"She, Potter," Draco corrected offering a small quirk of his mouth at the compliment. "Anna is… gaining confidence in herself as triarii, but she's fighting long-term conditioning that makes referring to herself as such…difficult. Using gendered pronouns is something that she's not been able to break from without…serious consequences. I trust you'll respect that."

Harry's heart twinged at the reticence, the grief and helplessness, he heard in Draco's voice. "I will. Of course," Harry answered softly, desperately wanting to bring the troubled triarii into his arms. Whatever pain Anna was trying to overcome from her past obviously hurt hir deeply as well. Harry was wondering how to approach the reticent blond with some offer of comfort or support when the Bloody Baron rose through the floor, startling them both.

"Mer. Malfoy," the ghost called in his eerie disembodied voice as Draco redonned his over-robe. "Come quickly! Anna is being attacked in the second floor corridor!"

Worry and fear shone a furious light in Draco's grey eyes. Robes billowing behind hir, sie bounded from the room. Even during the war Harry had never seen anyone move so fast. He, Paul, and Soren barely kept pace with the former Seeker, sprinting through the corridors like great cats on the hunt. For a split second as they rounded the corner on the lower floor Harry felt a slight pity for the three boys taunting and hitting, kicking and spitting; they had no idea what they were in for. He hoped they enjoyed their last moments breathing, because the rage marring Draco's face announced their fate as dead men walking.

"IMPEDIMENTA! EXPELLIARMUS!" the mage thundered, hir voice echoing through the hall. The boys' wands were ripped from their grips as they all launched through the air and smacked wetly into the stone walls. The spells' wake rippled, leaving the faint scent of scorched ozone behind. Paul and Soren hurried to check Anna's downed attackers as a frantic vamar fell to hir knees beside a battered little girl.

Long pointed fingers, paler for the shock, lifted the bloodstained locks with infinite care and tender patience away from the tiny face covered in bruises. "Anna? Petal, can you hear me?" The anguished mage whispered endearments and reassurance as sie gently lifted the child into hir arms. "I'm here angel, and Poppy will have you right as rain in no time. Everything will be all right, my darling."

Harry's heart broke as he watched a single tear slide from beneath Draco's closed eyes. "Draco, come," he directed, prepared for the jolt as he slipped his arms around the slighter mage's shoulders, pleasantly surprised to feel a near-gentle thrum of energy between them soothing and strengthening rather than the demanding shock of before. "Anna needs to get to the Infirmary. Come." He guided the triarii and tossed a look over his shoulder at Paul and Soren, who nodded that they had the assailants well in hand.

They moved quickly to the Infirmary, Harry hollering for Madam Pomfrey as soon as they'd crossed the threshold. The matron came bustling into the ward and directed the triarii to lay the whimpering child on the nearest bed. "Oh, Merlin, what's happened?" she demanded of Harry, seeing the blond parent only had eyes for hir stricken child.

"She was attacked by some students in the hall."

The matron tutted and gently pulled Draco away. "Mer. Malfoy...Draco, you must sit back, please. Please," she pleaded with the teary-eyed mage curled gingerly over the injured child.

"C'mon, Draco, let Madam Pomfrey work. Anna will be fine, but she needs treatment," Harry said softly, pulling the triarii back by hir shoulders. "You have to let Madam Pomfrey help her." He turned the mage into his chest and nodded at the Healer, who was busy collecting potions and shooting spells toward the young girl.

The silence was heavy and Harry could feel wetness seeping into his robes from the distraught Draco's silent tears. He knew that implacable fury and a demand for vengeance would follow, but for now shock and sadness rolled off the blond in stomach-turning waves.

The spell-light surrounding Anna faded and Madam Pomfrey frowned, turning to the anxious adults. "She's sustained very serious injuries, I'm afraid. Diagnostics indicate she was hit with both a Confundus and an Impedimenta jinx, then physically assaulted. She has broken ribs, a serious concussion, internal swelling, and a punctured lung. She's a very damaged little girl right now. I've done what I can and I'll be checking on her throughout the night for the concussion, but right now she needs undisturbed rest so her body can adjust to the healing magic."

She turned to the anguished triarii. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I know this is difficult for you, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave while Anna's condition stabilises. You can return in an hour or so if you promise to be unobtrusive, but for now why don't you go on to see the Headmistress or down to the kitchens for some tea? I gather you're in shock yourself."

Wisps that had come loose from hir braid tossed violently as the bound hair whipped back and forth. "I can't," Draco said brokenly. "I left her and this is what happened." Red-rimmed eyes pleaded with the matron. "Please, Poppy. Don't make me go. I—"

To Harry's utter surprise, since in all the years he'd known her she'd never once offered hugs to her patients, Madam Pomfrey reached out and drew the tearful triarii into her arms. "It's all right, Draco," she crooned. "Nothing will harm Anna here. I'll look out for her. Now, please. Have some tea and try to calm yourself. You can see her later, I promise."

"Poppy—" Draco began.

"I _promise_," she said softly, then her face and voice turned stony. "Find who did this, Draco. Find them and make sure they're punished. Never in all my years here have I seen a student attacked in such a vicious and cowardly way. Don't let them hurt anyone else."

With renewed purpose Draco drew back and nodded. From her ample pockets Madam Pomfrey retrieved a handkerchief and wetted it in a nearby basin, clucking like a hen with one chick as she tenderly wiped Draco's face. "There now," she smiled. "That's much better. I want those ruffians to quail in fear, shake in their boots when they see you. Hurt our Anna, will they?" The nurse scowled. "I'd go and hex them myself but Anna needs me here, and I'm quite sure you'll handle things just fine, Draco."

Her charge was enough to rekindle the blond's fury, and an unholy light of revenge shone from hir eyes. "That I will," sie answered hoarsely. "Care for my girl?"

"Of course." Madam Pomfrey patted hir cheek.

With a last look to hir sleeping child and peck for the matron's cheek, Draco swept from the Infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey rushed out, catching the Auror by the sleeve as he hurried to catch up to the blond. "Sie's like my own child, Harry. Keep hir safe, and don't let hir rough them up too badly."

There wasn't really time, but his curiosity demanded an answer. Harry looked at her with his question in his eyes.

"The war," she answered quickly. "Draco was warded out of Hogwarts except for the Infirmary. And with Severus busy spying there was no one else to make the many potions we needed. The whiny spoilt brat disappeared, grew into a kind and conscientious mage. We've grown close, so much so that I couldn't imagine my life without hir. And then sie brought Anna into our lives too. They've become my family, Harry. Take care of them," she explained and released him to go chasing after the mage bent on revenge while she tended to hir battered child.

* * *

With the added lead time Harry didn't catch up to Draco until they'd reached the gargoyle guardian of the Headmistress' office steps. It moved out of their way without the password, and silently they made their way up. The face sie wore now was one with which Harry was quite familiar: cold determination, glacial fury—he'd seen it several times during the war, just before Malfoy unleashed vicious and decimating attacks on cadres of Death Eaters. This, however, was personal in a way that going after Death Eaters wasn't. For Minerva's sake he hoped Draco would consider leaving enough of the boys to bury in matchboxes; either way, though, the paperwork was going to be a mess.

The mage smartly rapped twice on the door, which opened on a tense scene. Paul and Soren held the four bound boys at wandpoint while their irate and indignant parents railed at the Headmistress.

"This is ridiculous! We're summoned from our home, beside ourselves with worry that something horrible has happened to our son, and what do we find when we arrive here? Vincent bound and gagged like some criminal. Held by those thugs who you say don't answer to you! My son's been assaulted and I demand something be done about it!" a portly, red-faced wizard hollered at the Headmistress.

She ignored him and waved her newest guests into the room. Harry took a position near the door while Draco sat hirself on an armchair removed from the clustered irate parents of hir child's assailants and the boys themselves.

The Headmistress steepled her fingers. "Please do sit down, Mr. Green. Now that Mer. Malfoy has arrived we may begin. I have here—" she held up a sheaf of parchments— "Madame Pomfrey's report on Anna Malfoy-Black's condition."

She frowned when Harry gasped audibly from behind Draco's chair. "Miss Malfoy-Black has sustained serious injuries and will be in the infirmary recovering for at least the next three days. Your sons—" she fixed glares on the parents of the delinquent boys— "were apprehended while viciously attacking Miss Malfoy-Black, and this is the reason I have called you here this evening. Despite the late hour, as Mrs. Willoughby noted," she glared further at a pinched-faced woman who shrank back in her chair. "such acts are inexcusable and these boys must be made to answer. As it is, they are facing serious charges."

The portly wizard who was blustering when Harry and Draco had come in paled. "Um, surely this is all some sort of misunderstanding, Headmistress McGonagall. My Vincent is a very good boy. He would never hurt a fellow student unprovoked. Most likely the boys were roughhousing, as they are wont to do at this age. The girl must've stepped in and got caught by a stray blow. Perhaps these…gentlemen," he sneered at Paul and Soren. "overreacted."

"I assure you that is not the case, Mr. Green," Paul spoke up.

"One moment please, Mr. Anderson. I would prefer to wait for the other Auror representative to arrive before full statements are given."

"The Aurors? What? For such a minor tussle?" objected another parent.

Draco stood and glared. "That minor tussle resulted in a punctured lung, you—"

Before sie could verbally vivisect the offending wizard, the fire whooshed and Tonks tumbled out of the green flames. "Sorry. Always have a bit of trouble with Floo travel," she excused, brushing the soot from her navy Auror robes.

The Headmistress frowned at Tonks' jovial manner. "Auror Tonks," she said, sternly recalling the metamorphmagus to her duty. "these are Augustus and Marjory Green," she introduced the blustering blowhard and his quiet wife. "Elaine Willoughby, Daniel and Kaye Easton, and Ralph and Mary Drew. Their sons Vincent, Spencer, John, and Adam attacked a fellow student this evening and we need you to take their statements and remand them into custody."

"Custody! Now see here, McGonagall!" Ralph Drew cried. "They're just boys! No need to involve the law. They'll apologise to the girl. Let 'em serve a detention and have done with all this."

Draco perked a brow and stared the anxious man back into his seat. "Let me assure you, Mr. Drew, you should be relieved that the Aurors responded so quickly. Incarceration is the least of your son's worries. If it were up to me I would quite happily disembowel them and owl you their rotting entrails." Sie smirked. "As a law abiding citizen, however, I plan to bring the full strength of the law to bear against them, so SIT DOWN AND SHUT IT!"

Drew gaped and his wife raised a shaking finger in Draco's direction. "You—you—I read about you! You're one of those filthy murdering Death Eaters!" She turned to the Headmistress. "How could you even let this child into school with decent children? She was probably casting those Dark curses on our son and his friends. It was self-defence! You can't—"

"Enough! Let us hear what the boys have to say for themselves. We will have the truth of this altercation. And all of you will remain silent during the questioning or I will have you removed from this office." McGonagall glared at the parents. "Auror Tonks, if you please?" the Headmistress directed the Auror.

Tonks pulled out her Signatus and set it to record and transcribe as she approached the bound boys. She ended the silencing spell and cast with Veritas, a much gentler way of ensuring truthful interrogations than Veritaserum and approved for use on minors.

She set the Signatus on the small table in front of the boys and began the interrogation. "Let the record show, that on the seventh of October, Senior Auror, first class, Nymphadora Tonks was summoned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall to take statements regarding an incident of felonious assault which took place earlier in the evening. Statements to be witnessed by the parents of the four alleged assailants, two agents of Anderson Security Systems, Draco Malfoy, vamar of the attack's victim, and Auror, first class, Harry Potter." Harry focussed on looking blank-faced and menacing as the boys and their parents turned awed eyes in his direction. Tonks cleared her throat. "Please state your names and ages." She began, pointing at the boy furthest from her left.

"Vincent Green, sixteen," answered the boy, chest puffed out proudly.

"John Easton, sixteen."

"Spencer Willoughby, fifteen."

"Adam Drew, fif—fifteen," the last boy managed, his voice cracking.

Tonks nodded and scrolled down her Signatus' screen. "Describe the incident in question."

Vincent, obviously the leader, tossed his head confidently. "We were just walking down the hall a-and—" he struggled as his voice seemed suddenly trapped in his throat.

Tonks raised a brow and cast a chastising glance his way. "The Veritas spell won't allow you to lie, Mr. Green. Maybe you'd like to try again?"

The boy scowled. "Fine! We overheard that Anna chit and a bunch of her weirdo friends talking about a meeting for those triarii students when we were in the Library. So we waited around 'til the meeting was over to teach one of them a lesson. It didn't matter which one. Freaks like them shouldn't be around normal kids. We don't want them here."

Mrs. Green gasped but said nothing as her son shot a hateful glare her way. "They're freaks, Mum! Unnatural! They shouldn't be here. We shouldn't have to go to school with them. Who knows what they get up to when no one's watching them? They probably molest all the littler kids! We have to protect ourselves!"

Tonks sighed impatiently. "I didn't ask you for your thoughts on the triarii, Mr. Green. Tell me what happened tonight."

The boy shrugged. "We waited around but they all came out of the meetings in groups. We were going to leave but that Anna girl came out by herself and headed toward the dungeons, so we followed her a ways then roughed her up."

"How exactly did you 'rough her up', Mr. Green? Did you hex her?"

"I tripped her, and hit her with an Impedimenta and John cast Confundus so she wouldn't be sure who we were. Then we hit her with our fists. Adam spit on her and said her kind wasn't wanted at Hogwarts, and John kicked her and told her we were going to drag her down to Hogsmeade and leave her for the bloke killing all the freaks in alleyways," he finished dispassionately as the spell took full effect.

Harry felt the anger and heartbreak gathering into a deadly storm as Draco imagined hir child's pain and her fear at the thought of being left for the killer. He stroked the soft fabric over the mage's shoulder, willing hir to calm, surprised when the thrumming energy between them seemed to soften with echoes of sympathy. Draco looked up and Harry met hir grey eyes, still shimmering with rage and hurt but it seemed controlled now, banked somehow. There was something else too in those smouldering molten pools, gratitude maybe, Harry thought, and he squeezed the slender shoulder beneath his palm once more.

Tonks had finished the interview and the Headmistress looked at each boy sternly and somewhat sadly. "We have an accounting of the evening's events. I am truly dismayed by your behaviour, Messrs. Green, Easton, Willoughby, and Drew. That you would plot violence with such premeditation and maliciousness here at Hogwarts which is meant to be a safe haven for our students is greatly disturbing, and what is worse is that you have acted on such hatred and wilful ignorance. You are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." A quelling glare forestalled comments from the boys' parents. "Your wands will be snapped and you will be remanded to the custody of the Auror service, as I am assuming Mer. Malfoy wishes to press charges?" She looked to Draco, who nodded.

"I do indeed. And I want these miserable excuses for wizards tried before the Wizengamot as adults."

"But—but that'd mean Azkaban if they're convicted!" Mrs. Willoughby wailed, wringing her hands in her handkerchief.

Draco smiled cruelly. "Why yes, it would. Be thankful that's the worst the law allows and that the Dementors are gone." Grey eyes hardened to flint. "I may not be able to claim lex talionis under Ministry law, but magic itself will grant me justice." In a flash hir wand was out and pointed at the boys. "_Retributio!" _sie cried, and they were enveloped in a translucent gold mist. The four glowed for a moment, then the mist settled on them, sinking into their skin.

"My son!" Marjory Green screeched. She shot from her seat and turned toward her boy, then Draco, torn by whether she should console or confront first. "What have you done?" she demanded, rushing to her son's side.

"Sie has cast Retributus," the Headmistress answered darkly. "An old spell that proffers justice for evil done. Its effects vary but are lasting, and there is no counter. It's sometimes called the Conscience Giver. Every harmful action they commit will haunt them with the pain of their target. Every bigoted notion will cause your sons to see their intolerance from the perspective of those they revile." She sighed. "Mer. Malfoy—"

Draco turned up hir nose. "I am well within my rights, Headmistress."

She nodded stiffly. "That is true. Still—"

"She-he-uh sie hexed our sons! Why isn't someone doing something?" Kaye Easton cried.

Her husband put his arm over her shoulder. "There's nothing they can do, honey," he said sadly. "John and the others hurt hir daughter. Retributus is an old Wizarding tradition. Sie's within hir rights; sie could have called down a blood feud on us, or worse."

Mrs. Easton was not consoled. "I've never heard of this _Retributus_ thing," she spat. "Sie can cite some ancient law nobody even remembers and curse our son and no one will do anything? God, sometimes I wish I'd never learned I was a witch!" She started to cry.

Harry looked on, torn between his continuing anger and regret. He'd never heard of Retributus either. He assumed it was one of those types of things taught in Wizard-born families, along with learning about age-old feuds and strategic marriages. His ignorance and that of Mrs. Eaton were another example of the failings of Albus Dumbledore's experiment. At least if they'd been taught about Retributus she might have known to expect it, as her husband obviously had.

And he was still confused about Anna. How was it that she could be a Black? He pushed aside his questions for the moment and approached Tonks, directing his comments to the families. "Your sons are hereby remanded to the custody of the Ministry. We will take them to holding cells until the time of their hearing before the Wizengamot. You will be allowed to see them after they've been through processing. They may also meet with counsel at that time. I recommend that each of you return to your homes now; you've busy days ahead." Brusquely Harry pulled each of the boys to their feet as Tonks brought out a specialised mass-transit Portkey. He turned to Paul and Soren. "Aurors will return later to continue the security detail for Mer. Malfoy. In the meantime I'm sure you'll keep things well in hand, gentleman. Thank you."

The agents nodded and Harry fought off the wave of possessiveness that washed over him as Paul placed a supportive hand on Draco's shoulder. A familiar eye could see that the smaller mage was weary and heartsore, but still sie stood strong and straight and powerful, not for a moment allowing the families of hir child's attackers to think hir vulnerable. With a final look into those shifting grey eyes and a nod for the Headmistress, Harry was whisked away by the Portkey.

* * *

Processing the youngsters didn't take long as fear of the consequences of their actions burned away their bravado. Harry was hopeful that more involved questioning would lead them to others who posed a potential danger to their fellow students, and maybe more devious influences beyond the school who were using the youths as tools for their dirty work. As much as he wanted to wring some answers out of them, he was more desperate to return to Hogwarts—to Anna, who'd already charmed her way into his heart, and to Draco, who was much more than Harry had ever given the mage credit for and hungered to learn more about.

He called his entire team in for a briefing. He assigned the questioning to Seamus, knowing his affable demeanour would make the boys more comfortable in the formidable interrogation room and encourage them to speak freely. Hetty and Tonks were scheduled to the security detail for Saturday, but Harry was relatively certain Draco wouldn't be moving from the Infirmary until Anna was released so there was no need to assign them to guard hir at the festival. Harry's presence would be enough while the young magnate was at Hogwarts.

Because it was late, they quickly reviewed and Tonks offered to return to Hogwarts for the night to give Harry a chance to rest. He wasn't keen on the idea, but it made sense that he be rested and alert while Draco's safety was in his hands. He returned to his office with Ron and Hermione at his back; when he'd taken a seat behind his desk the bushy-haired witch got busy casting privacy spells.

"I take it that whatever you found out about Anna is something sensitive?" Harry asked wryly as the spells settled and Hermione perched nervously on a chair.

"It's…well, information about Anna is hard to come by, Harry."

He frowned. "Does this have something to do with Anna being a Black?"

Her brown eyes widened. "What do you know, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Nothing really. Minerva gave Anna's full name during the meeting in her office: Anna Malfoy-Black. I don't understand how that's possible unless Draco changed hir name. Is there something more...serious about it?"

Ron snorted, but it was a disturbingly strangled sound. "Oh it's _serious_ all right," he murmured, scrubbing one of his large hands over his face.

Harry pinned his friends with a "_spill everything_" look.

Hermione wrung her hands. "Oh, Harry. It's…well it's very disturbing. I wouldn't believe it except there's no other plausible explanation. Unless something very unusual is revealed in her adoption records, I'm afraid the truth of it is just horrible!"

"Mione, what is it?" Harry snapped, losing patience.

"Well, we couldn't get to the whole file. It's been sealed by the Department of Child Welfare and Family Services since there's an ongoing adoption."

"Wait, an ongoing adoption? But—"

Hermione sighed. "That's what we thought too, Harry, but here's the thing. From what it says in her antenatal medical report, Anna's birth was the result of the rape of a minor."

Harry paled. "You're not saying…"

Hermione pulled out her copy of the files. "Sie was born a few weeks late at Hogwarts on April 12 and immediately placed for adoption. The names of hir adoptive parents are in the sealed file so we'll have to wait until Monday to look at those, but evidently Anna is triarii and manifested early at seven. Hir adoptive parents wanted hir to undergo Muggle corrective surgery, but Anna is allergic or resistant to all forms of Muggle anaesthesia and the surgery couldn't proceed. The adoption was dissolved and returned the child to the custody of DCWFS. Sie was bounced around to various orphanages and finally settled at Heritage House. Malfoy filed an adoption petition just a few months after returning from America."

"Right, and she may be triarii, but so you know, it's full female terminology for Anna, Hermione. Still none of that explains—" Harry interrupted impatiently.

Hermione held out a parchment to Harry sadly. "Harry, we counted back the months and…well…you have to remember that he'd been on the run, was still a bit unstable from being in Azkaban..."

"And Malfoy'd just been running off at the mouth about Cedric and Voldemort and you getting what you deserved, just being a right little shite, and he was upset for having to send you off to those damned Dursleys again," Ron added.

Harry turned the parchment over, dread and bile rising in his throat as he learned the truth for himself. _Anastacia Narcisse Malfoy-Black_, the birth certificate read, and listed her birth weight and length. The date and time followed, and there just above Madam Pomfrey's signature as attending Healer, printed on one line, were the names of Anna's parents: Draco Lucien Malfoy and Sirius Nigellus Black. Harry's stomach turned to lead.

"Wizarding birth certificates don't distinguish between mothers or birthing parents. It's considered obvious, and in the case of triarii parents or male bearers there's a small star placed by their names. See?" Hermione babbled nervously, pointing to a superscript mark behind Draco's name.

Draco had been fourteen. Harry was going to be sick.

He scrabbled for the rubbish bin beside his desk and heaved, Ron and Hermione sitting by helplessly as the memory of their best friend's beloved godfather was destroyed.

"Damn Malfoy," Ron muttered as Harry hacked over the bin.

The younger man wiped his wet, snotty face on his sleeve and glared at his ginger friend. "Damn Malfoy? MALFOY? Sie was a brat, Ron, and a bully, but tell me, how does that justify being held down and forced against hir will?" Harry demanded angrily.

Hermione avoided her friend's angry and betrayed eyes. "It doesn't," she said softly. "But we weren't there, Harry. We don't know how it might have been. We'd hexed Crabbe, Goyle, and hir unconscious, remember? Or maybe Malfoy seduced Sirius. Or..."

Harry shot an incredulous look at his friend. "Right, Hermione. A fourteen-year-old, hexed insensate, wakes up covered in boils and decides to seduce a perfect stranger? No. We—_I_—just have to face it. I-I mean, I knew, right?" Harry sniffed as his eyes refilled with tears. "I knew how cruel Sirius could be. I-I saw how he used Remus to nearly kill Snape and was never even sorry for it. There—there was a darkness in him. I-I just wanted a family, someone to love me, so much I ignored it." Harry hung his head. "Everything I inherited from Sirius is Anna's by right. I-I should—"

"You should nothing!" Ron said angrily. "He was your godfather, Harry, and he loved you and wanted to take care of you. The newest Malfoy brat has her rich Daddy to buy her whatever she wants."

"Maybe I don't want it, Ron!" Harry yelled. "Maybe I don't want to go home and look around my house and be reminded that everything I thought about Sirius was a lie! Maybe I don't WANT a RAPIST'S legacy!"

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed sympathetically. "It wasn't all a lie. You can't discount everything Sirius was because of a moment of madness."

"A moment of madness? Am I the only one here who's thinking clearly about this? Sirius raped—RAPED—a fourteen-year-old child. A CHILD! A child who was forced to have a child and to give that baby up to obviously unfit parents. Have either of you stopped to consider what it must've been like for Malfoy? And then thinking that baby you gave up is safe and loved by some family somewhere only to find her living at an orphanage, then having to wade through the Ministry's morass to be able to claim legal rights to a child who's yours by blood?"

Harry scrubbed his hands over his face. "Merlin, how the hell am I going to face hir now?"

"Face who, Harry?" Hermione asked softly.

"Draco, Anna, either of them. How can I look them in the eye knowing it was my fault? The only reason Sirius was around was because of me, Hermione. If he hadn't been there looking out for me…if I hadn't complained to him about Draco..."

She shook her head. "The past is past, Harry. There are a million what-if's that could have made things turn out differently. This doesn't really change anything. We know now that Anna's other parent is…a non-issue in this investigation. That's what really matters. It's not like you and Malfoy are friends where you might have to talk about this someday. We—we just do our jobs, Harry. We find the killer and then none of us ever have to see or think about Malfoy again."

But Harry knew that wasn't true. Already the blond mage and hir child were important to him. He knew he wanted them in his life. Wanted to be important to them, to care for them. Reddened eyes met those of his friends and he nodded, but really Ron and Hermione didn't understand. He cast a quick glance at his clock. Yet another hard day, and it seemed he was heading back to Hogwarts tonight after all.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse

**A/N:** Don't hate me 'kay. I love Sirius too and was pretty surprised that things turned out this way. Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N:**My wonderful betas Mamacita-san and refuz2luz are awesome and any remaining errors are mine. And wow I was blown away by the reviews, thank you!! Again, some review responses are at my LJ (link in my profile).

* * *

**7.**

Harry stumbled through the Floo and dazedly brushed himself off. "Thanks for having Minerva connect the Floo for me, Remus," he said tiredly. The werewolf attempted a smile but it faded when he took a good look at Harry's appearance.

"It was nothing, Harry. I'd offer you tea, but from the look of you I think we both might need something stronger." He led Harry to an overstuffed couch and poured two glasses of Firewhisky. He placed a glass in front of Harry and sat down. "Whatever it is, Harry, I'll help in any way I can. You know that."

Harry nodded woodenly. "I know, Remus. It's just...I don't think there's any help for me with this one."

Remus nodded solemnly. "Well, the beginning is always a good place to start," he encouraged.

Harry turned his head and stared into the fire. "How are Anna and Draco?"

Surprise and anger flashed across Remus' careworn face. "This isn't about those boys, is it? Tonks stopped a while before heading over to guard Draco in the infirmary. She told me they were being sent to holding cells. They haven't—"

Harry quickly shook his head. "No, Remus, they're not going anywhere. It's not about them. I just wanted to know how Anna was. I—I know you care about her."

Remus breathed a sigh of relief. "Well…good. After what they've done they need to be severely punished. And Anna…she's on the mend. Actually, I'd just come from the Infirmary when your firecall came through. I'd been sitting with Draco talking, but this has hit hir rather hard. Finally Poppy gave hir a sedative and put Draco to bed, so sie and Anna will rest through the night." Remus smiled a little. "I take it your opinion on Draco is changing, then?"

The corner of Harry's mouth quirked up a fraction. "You could say so. Sie—sie's not who I thought sie was. I mean sie is—I've seen that, sie's still the ruthless competitor hell-bent on getting what sie wants. But it's not about winning petty games any more. It's making sure the children at Heritage House orphanage have what they need, trying to get kids placed with loving families. It's about doing the Foundation's work for the benefit of the whole Wizarding world...

"In some ways I think sie's a greater hero than I ever was, Remus. I defeated Voldemort, but Malfoy and people like hir are the ones taking up the fight to _rebuild_ our world, trying to make us better, more secure against Muggle exposure, making sure we push ourselves and use our magic in new ways. They're not stagnating, just riding on our past accomplishments and blindly following tradition. We're adapting—evolving, I guess—taking our traditions and making them work for us in a new millennium. You have to admire that."

A slightly amused smile grew on Remus lips. "That's quite the epiphany you've had from this afternoon, Harry."

The younger man shrugged. "Not really an epiphany, I just—I stopped trying to view everything suspiciously. I've been thinking about what I've seen and learned about hir without assuming sie had some nefarious plot brewing. And—" Harry blushed. "And there's something else, too."

Remus raised a brow in question.

"What do you know about Resonance, Remus?"

The werewolf grinned broadly. "Well!" He slapped his palm against his thigh. "It's high time you worked that out. Or was it Draco?"

"It was Draco," Harry admitted sheepishly. "Sie told me to ask you about it."

Remus nodded. "Resonance is an aspect of magic, Harry," he said, launching into his lecturer persona. "It is what has allowed for successful arranged marriages and the merging of familial lines." He studied Harry carefully. "You do know why, even before Voldemort and the perversion of blood politics by the Death Eaters, the merging and recording of familial lines was important, don't you, Harry?"

"Because of Ameinias?" Harry answered uncertainly.

"In part," Remus nodded. "In some ways magic is nearly sentient. It seeks to recreate and maintain itself. As magical beings, our relationship to our magic is certainly symbiotic in that way. Throughout our history certain families developed an affinity for particular talents. The Smiths, for example, are very gifted with magical metallurgy, or the Flitwicks who've always been skilled in the use of charms. Betrothals were often arranged between families to consolidate those talents; however, the matches did not proceed—" he paused, obviously thinking of some historical examples that defied convention— "well, usually they didn't proceed unless the couples in question had Resonance. Resonance is a sense between couples, drawn from their magic. Most simply I suppose you could say it is an indicator. A confirmation by magic itself that the two in question are compatible, both in terms of their magic and their souls."

"So it's a kind of bond, then?" Harry asked.

"No, not a bond," Remus clarified. "though it could indicate one. Resonance is magic's approval of a couple—and of course it varies between people. There are many who've married or entered relationships with people they've barely resonated with, but the most solid alliances, the best marriages are between people who resonate strongly." He cocked his head. "Tell me, how is it with you and Draco?"

Harry blushed and Remus chuckled. "That strong, then?"

"It—I can hardly explain it, Remus. At different times it's different things, like being struck by lightning, or sinking into a bath of perfectly warm water, or a really great hug when you need one; but it—it's nice."

The werewolf hummed and nodded. "That sounds about right." At Harry's confused look he continued. "Your own parents had Resonance like that. Of course it took them a few years to understand why they were so drawn to each other when they disliked each other so strongly." He cast a pointed look Harry's way.

"We've wasted a lot of time, haven't we?" Harry asked sadly.

Remus shrugged. "You obviously weren't ready, Harry, and neither of you understood what you were feeling. It was similar with your parents. Being Muggle-born, Lily didn't know what Resonance was; and your father, well, he was always so sure it was fairytales and claptrap cooked up by delusional, syrupy romantics. Neither of them ever attended a Ring Dance, so it wasn't as though someone older and more experienced could point them in the right direction."

"A Ring Dance?"

Remus nodded. "They're considered more Coming-of-Age Balls now. But there was a time when all marriageable youths in a community would gather to take part in an old magic. At the dance the youths would stand in two circles and dance with each other. Everyone danced with everyone else, with watchful parents and chaperones looking on. You'd say they were plotting and," he chuckled, "many were, but mostly it was to observe who among the dancers had Resonance with another. Afterward, families would make overtures for betrothals or courtships. When I was young the Ring Dance was hosted every year by an old, powerful pure-blood family. The Potters hosted the ball when we were fifteen; of course we didn't go. Sirius sneaked a few bottles of Firewhisky into the dorms and we 'celebrated' that way instead."

"But you were only fifteen!" Harry understood exactly why his father had balked at the idea of being matched to someone at such a young age.

"Well, officially the balls are meant to celebrate the coming-of-age of all who have turned seventeen in that year, but generally youths of fifteen to nineteen were invited." Remus took a sip of his whiskey and grinned. "Merlin, Harry, they weren't expected to marry that night! Sometimes years of courtship would ensue from recognised Resonance at the Ring Dance!"

Harry shook his head. "It just seems so…I don't know…what about falling in love with who you want to? And they don't have Ring Dances or Coming-of-Age Balls any more so someone must've figured out that a fancy meat-market wasn't the best way of going about finding a spouse."

Remus tapped his fingers against his chin. "Resonance doesn't subsume your free will, Harry. You are free to act on it or not. It is, as I said, an indication that you and another are suited to each other, not something that will bind you against your wills. And actually the tradition of the Ring Dance _is_ returning. Renaissance Foundation has hosted one each spring the last couple of years. It was the first Voldemort war that ended the practice; people didn't feel safe in gatherings like that, leaving their children so exposed. Now that he's gone we're reclaiming those parts of our culture that were sacrificed to protect us while he was gaining power." Remus smiled at Harry's scandalised look. "You can't imagine the number of people who are really looking forward to the return of Coming-of-Age Balls, Harry. I've handed down a slew of detentions to dreamy-eyed witches who've been pouring over dress-robe catalogues instead of their textbooks and it's months away yet. Besides, you might be surprised at the people you know who've had marriages arranged after their attendance at a Ring Dance. Don't discount them, Harry. Magic is a very powerful force and Resonance is never wrong."

Petulant, Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Like who, then?"

Remus grinned knowingly. "Like Arthur and Molly Weasley, or Frank and Alice Longbottom, Edgar and Ethel Bones, Sturgis and Phoebe Podmore, to name a few you know about through the Order."

"But only pure-bloods—er, Wizard-born, right? That's why it's—"

Remus interrupted, shaking his head. "Every youth must be invited, Harry, Wizard-born or Muggle-born. I've heard that Ted and Andromeda Tonks had Resonance so powerful everyone at their Ring Dance noticed it. That was one reason why the Blacks might've expected her to run off with him, even if they were angry about it. In general there's a deep respect for matches made or begun at the Ring Dance, Harry. Even Sirius' parents, Orion and Walburga, had Resonance with one another at a Ring Dance. And as—" Remus frowned— "unpleasant, bigoted, misguided, and shrewish as she was, she honestly loved Sirius' father very deeply. And Orion felt the same way."

Harry paled dramatically at the mention of the Blacks, and with a concerned look Remus waved his wand and the Firewhisky bottle refilled their glasses. "What is it, Harry? Surely you didn't come all this way for a late-night history and cultural etiquette lesson."

Harry looked pained, and suddenly the cheery warmth of Remus' quarters were not nearly enough to pull the chill from his soul. "You knew, didn't you Remus?" he asked, dispirited. "About Sirius?"

The werewolf's brow furrowed in confusion. "What did I know, Harry? What are you trying to say?" he prodded gently.

"About Anna," Harry nearly moaned.

For long moments Remus was silent. "So you've found out," he sighed. "I had hoped—but with the investigation and the attack I should have known." He shook his head. "So why have you come, Harry? Are you going to report it? You know if you do, DCWFS _will_ take Anna away."

Harry shook his head, confused. "Why would they do that? Haven't Draco and Anna suffered enough? Why would they punish hir for wanting to raise hir child?"

Now it was Remus who was confused. "Because it's blood magic, Harry. You know how the Ministry looks on that. The adoption Blood Rite isn't illegal, but some might consider it Dark, though it's not really. You know how the use of any blood magic is frowned on; and since it's Draco you know they'll find a way to make it a violation of hir probation."

"Blood Rite adoption? What are you talking about, Remus? I just want to know how you could forgive Sirius for what he did to Draco. How could you call him your friend after that? How could I—how could I love and admire someone who was _capable_ of that?" Harry was shouting by the end.

Remus frowned as the implications of Harry's rambling settled, and he sat back in his chair. "I don't know what you think you know, Harry, but I reckon it's rather far from the truth." He held up Harry's glass. "Drink this and then I want you to listen very carefully, because acting without full knowledge of the situation could have disastrous results."

Harry gulped down the amber fluid, welcoming the burn that seared his gullet. He calmed himself as best he could and nodded to Remus.

"Right, then. Eleven years ago a triarii manifested early in Slytherin and was brutally raped." Remus silenced Harry with a look as the younger man opened his mouth. "I take it you know that. What you don't know is that this young triarii was a friend of Draco Malfoy's. Draco quietly arranged for this student to receive treatment and for the child to be adopted. And I understand that while the rapist was never charged because his victim was too frightened and ashamed to make a formal statement, he and Draco had a brief altercation during the war that resulted in a rather painful death." Remus grimaced showing his teeth. "The child born of that rape is Anna, and she was adopted by a young couple desperate for a child. I cannot speak to you about what Anna endured when she manifested early, Harry, it's not my story to tell and what I know was shared in confidence; but I will say that it's a blessing Anna was returned to DCWFS custody and ended up at Heritage House.

"I'm sure when Draco first returned from America sie hadn't given much thought to becoming a parent right away; sie was only twenty-two, after all, and focussed on taking over the leadership of Renaissance Foundation. But sie saw Anna at Heritage House and recognised some of her features. As triarii hirself, Draco was better equipped to understand her than many, and they were nearly inseparable right from the beginning. Draco then made a decision. Sie knew DCWFS would make it hard for hir to adopt a child, but if Anna was hir own blood progeny sie thought sie could maybe circumvent some of the lingering resentment held for the Malfoy name that was causing delays in getting custody. There is an adoption ritual, a Blood Rite that is fairly archaic. The rite produces a radical transformation in the child, destroying all signs and traces of the child's originators, the initial biological parents, and replacing those traits with those of the adoptive parents."

Harry closed his eyes and thought. "So Draco is Anna's biological parent now through the Blood Rite. But shouldn't her birth certificate have the names of her—uh—originators, then?"

Remus shook his head. "Birth certificates are magical documents, Harry. They automatically update themselves when magic has intervened. Before the rite it would have listed Anna's originators; after the rite it would bear the names of her new biological parents."

"But—Sirius—how did—"

Remus sat back heavily and sighed. "That would be Andromeda Tonks' doing, Harry. Draco didn't want the Black line to end with hir, and sie needed a second parent for Anna. Sie went to Andromeda and asked if she would help hir change Anna's parentage. By law Tonks and I will never have children of our own," he said sadly. "The Black lineage would have ended with Draco if Andromeda hadn't cooperated." Remus smirked. "What no one considered was that Andromeda hasn't given up on the hope that Tonks and I will have children someday. She decided to use this opportunity to resurrect a line that, with Sirius' death, had no hope of continuation.

"I don't know when he made it for her, but Sirius had given Andromeda a blood amulet. They're tokens of great trust and affection since the blood they contain can be used to work all sorts of magic on the giver. But Andromeda had Draco use that amulet for the adoption rite, neglecting to tell hir whose blood was preserved in it. And so Sirius became a father from beyond the Veil. There was no consent, Harry, but not in the way you thought. And honestly, Sirius wasn't always the most ethical person; I think when it was all said and done he would have been pleased to help Anna and to have a child of his own. He'd always liked the idea of being a father but never thought he'd really have the chance. And now, wherever he is, he has a child who loves him devotedly, and some part of him lives on."

Harry shook his head. "What Andromeda did was wrong, Remus. Draco wanted Anna to have two parents she could know, who could be involved in her life. She doesn't have that now."

"No, but that doesn't mean she can't love Sirius fully and take comfort from his memory. Just as you do with your parents. Anna's heard all about her father from me and Andromeda and others who knew him well. It's not easy, but she copes. And there are many people in her life who love her. Anna isn't bereft of a family who loves her, Harry, and that's what Draco wanted for her most of all."

Harry scrubbed his hands through his hair. "More of magic doing the impossible," he muttered. He looked up at Remus tiredly, blinking rapidly to keep sleep at bay. It didn't help that he'd always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol, and he'd had more tonight than he was used to. "Doesn't it 'ver get to be too much, Remus?"

"Maybe." The elder shrugged. "I learned a long time ago, Harry, to stop trying to force my understanding of magic along the lines of logic and accept that there's more that magic can do than it can't. But about Anna..."

"I won' say anythin', though I hate that Ron and Mione think Sirius capable of something so horro—horri—bad now. I hate tha' I thought sumthin' so awful 'bout 'im," Harry promised, rubbing his eyes. "An' I don't understand why Draco didn' jus' wait 'til after th' adoption was approved."

"The truth will come out at some point, Harry, and you can correct their perceptions then. It is a good lesson for all of you in not jumping to conclusions when you have insufficient facts. And since Sirius was often guilty of that himself, it's fitting in a way that his memory be used to teach you about what not to do. Consider it a life lesson from your godfather." Remus reached out and clasped Harry's hand, a sign of the young Auror's absolution. "As for the adoption." Remus shrugged. "It might've been years before the adoption was approved, or it might have been never, Harry. Draco and Anna couldn't wait; the Blood Rite adoption cannot be invoked after a child has turned ten. The magnitude of the transformation is too stressful on the body."

Harry nodded tiredly. "Hmmm. 'kay."

Remus leaned over and ruffled Harry's hair. "C'mon, pup. I think you've had enough shocking revelations for one night. Go on to bed. Tonks'll switch off with Seamus in the morning so I'll have her wake you when she comes in."

Harry's eyes were glazing over. "S'rry 'bout tha—know weekends are fer yer time together..."

"True, but with the festival we'd both be pretty busy this weekend anyway," Remus said, steering the young Auror into the guest room.

Harry had barely stripped off his robes before he fell into the bed. He was asleep just as soon as his head hit the pillow. With a fond smile and a brief shake of his head, Remus closed the door on what had been a very long and tumultuous day.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse

**A/N:** Aha! See what happens when you assume! Unethical, malicious, a braggart, and a reckless idiot, yes, but Sirius wasn't evil. And now we know what that Resonance thing is all about! Hope you enjoyed, please review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N:**Again, this chapter has been beta read by Mamacita-san and refuz2luz who've just been wonderful, and any remaining errors are mine. Thank you so much for the reviews of the last chapter. I'm a little behind in responding to them, but no worries I'll get to them, promise!

* * *

**8.**

Anna was released from the Infirmary Sunday evening after dinner, and as Draco never left her side Harry reassigned his team to provide additional security at the festival and didn't stray too far from the castle himself. This was especially true on Saturday when, because of the Open House, dozens of people traipsed through Hogwarts familiarising or refamiliarising themselves with the venerated halls of the castle and her resident students, staff, ghosts, and caretakers.

With so many people wandering about, their intentions assumed but unknown, Harry thought it best to be prepared for anything and broke out his trusty Invisibility Cloak to stake out the Infirmary doors for the afternoon. And when Madame Pomfrey declared her patient fit to leave, Harry escorted Draco and Anna down to the Slytherin dormitories.

"You really don't have to, Draco," he heard Anna complain as they neared the entrance.

Draco's tone and stance were implacable. "I am i_not_/i taking any more chances, Anna. I was careless with your safety once." The pain of hir admission echoed through the chilled hall and reminded Harry of his own failings in that regard. "I shan't be so careless again. Headmistress McGonagall has already given her permission. Soren shall stay here as your personal guard, and other agents from Paul's company shall be installed at Hogwarts to patrol the halls for the safety of all students." Draco flicked up a stalling hand. "No arguments, Anna," sie said firmly.

The young gyrl sighed. "All right," she acquiesced with a pout, crossing her small arms over her chest. "I still don't see why I need to be singled out. Nothing's going to happen, Vama, not with Harry here. He's the best Auror ever! He'll keep anyone from hurting me. Won't you, Harry?" She smiled confidently and turned with uncanny accuracy to face the exact point where the unseen Auror was standing.

Draco pivoted on hir heel. "Potter?"

Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and revealed himself. "Hello, Draco." He smiled at the little girl. "And I would, Anna. I never want to see anything bad happen to you ever again, but your…vama is right. It'll be good to have the agents from Anderson Security here because I can't be here to look after you and follow Draco around to keep hir out of trouble at the same time."

Anna giggled. "Oh, that's all right then. You keep Vama safe for me. But you'll come visit, right?"

Harry nodded, grinning broadly at the child who'd already come to mean so much to him. "Of course." He came closer to the pair, then crouched to tuck a curling wisp behind her ear. "How else am I going to tell you about all the mischief your father got up to when he came to visit me while I was a student here?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Anna's grey eyes grew wide with amazement. "You knew my Daddy?"

Harry smiled softly. "Not as well as I would have liked, but I did know him. He was my godfather, you know."

Anna shook her head. "I didn't know that! WOW!"

"I'll tell you all about it. Did you know he was an Animagus?"

Anna nodded. "Uncle Remus told me."

Harry grinned. "He used to prowl around the grounds with me and my friends. We called him Snuffles in his dog form." He looked up at Draco's blank face, one he recognised as disapproval, and shrugged. "But I'll tell you more about then when I visit next, all right?"

Even white teeth like a row of little pearls showed behind her curling pink lips. "I'd like that very much, Harry."

"It's a date, then. And since we've missed the Open House and the relays, maybe Draco and I can play that game of one-on-one we promised you and your friends."

With a last wide smile Anna threw herself into Harry's open arms. "That'd be wonderful. Please do, Harry!" She leaned closer to his ear. "Vama needs to have more fun; sometimes sie forgets sie isn't old yet. And you'll look out for hir, won't you?" she added worriedly.

"I promise," Harry said into her hair.

"And you'll come back and tell me about my Daddy?"

"You have my word, Anna. It will be a pleasure." And it would. In his mind's eye Harry could see the excitement on Anna's face as he shared his stories. A warmth filled his heart as he imagined Sirius somewhere with his shaggy grin revelling in the joy of the little girl who adoringly called him Daddy.

He was brought back to the present by the soft press of lips against his cheek. "Thank you, Harry," she said when she ended the kiss.

He offered her a winning broad smile. "You're welcome, Anna."

Draco couldn't quite hide hir scowl, but it faded anyway as the young girl lifted her arms to Draco. Sie deftly lifted the child into a crushing hug. "I love you, Anna." Draco held her out at arm's length. "Promise you'll be safe. Use that Slytherin cunning, all right? And write to me every day."

Anna bounced a nod. "I promise. I'm so sorry for getting hurt Vama, but it won't happen again. I'll be more careful. And I won't go anywhere alone."

"I know, Petal. It wasn't your fault. You just—" Draco pulled her close again. "You just be careful. You're everything good in my life, Anna."

"I love you," Harry heard Anna whisper before dropping a child's kiss on hir lips.

Reluctantly, the blond mage placed Anna on the ground and with a last wave and whisper the girl disappeared behind the dungeon wall.

"She's a very special girl. How did she know I was there?"

"Anna is very sensitive to magical signatures," Draco answered, the characteristic Malfoy reserve instantly back in place. "And very perceptive as well. You might've been invisible, but you weren't exactly inaudible, Potter," sie bit out in clipped tones.

Harry shook his head and took the triarii by the elbow into a darkened corner. "Oh, no you don't, Draco. I won't let you get away with putting on that distanced haughty act again. We—I don't know, we'd gotten past that, were on our way to seeing i_each other_/i instead of just reacting because of how we i_perceived_/i each other. So don't go shutting me out now. Tell me what's eating you."

Draco yanked hir arm back. "Whatever happened between us, Potter, doesn't give you license to use my child!" the triarii hissed.

"Use?" Harry brow furrowed, then he lowered his voice further. "First, I wouldn't do that. I know what it's like to be desperate for scraps of memories of your parents. To want to know them so badly you'd do just about anything for the barest recollection—their favourite colour or food, a story about their worst subjects, or the things that made them laugh. You said you didn't begrudge Anna her childhood. Fine. I don't begrudge her her parentage. Sharing Sirius with someone else who loved him keeps him alive. Anna deserves that. There's no price, no conditions."

"You won't desert her for your next kitten-in-a-tree, Potter?" Draco demanded. "Because she's been abandoned too often by people she thought cared for her." Draco's voice was the quiet roar of a protective vamar.

Harry looked at him ruefully. "I know all too well what it's like to be abandoned, Draco. I'd never do that to her. All right? And I know that her Dad's identity has to be kept secret for now, or at least the Blood Rite does. I won't be telling anyone. Though my team—well, Ron and Hermione—dug up her birth records and think..." Harry sighed. "They think Sirius raped you at King's Cross at the end of fourth year, Draco." He wanted the blond aware of the undercurrent of pity sie'd encounter from his oldest friends and where it had come from.

Taking a moment to settle his shock, the blond smirked. "Well, I'd never have suspected them of thinking my cousin capable of such a thing, but I have to admit they're good, Potter. They've even determined the attack's location."

Harry paled a bit. "Y-you mean Anna's...first parents? The rape happened on the train?"

Draco looked into the middle distance with a grimace. "I found hir bleeding and crying in the loos after you lot had your little fun." Sie shook hir head at the memory. "Cleaned hir up as best I could while sie reversed as many of your hexes as possible, then we made up a story about having planned to spend the summer together when hir parents came to take hir away. They didn't care; it's not as if they really cared about hir, sie was just the heir, a symbol to them really. So we hid out the whole summer, studied glamour charms and went for long walks around the grounds which were really visits to the Healer in the village below the Manor. You know much of the rest."

Harry nodded. "Draco…it's none of my business really, but was it Pansy? I know you were really close then."

The mage stared down at hir feet. "No Potter, it wasn't Pansy. Sie was a year younger than us, only just turned thirteen when it happened. Hir attacker was a seventh year, he—well, I'm sure you could find out about both of them if you kept digging. But I—I'm asking you not to, Potter. Sie's moved on. Sie doesn't know anything more about Anna than that sie is my child, and I'd like to keep it that way. Sie'd figure it out if sie did the maths, but none of us really likes to look too closely at that time. The trauma was…well, it took hir a very long time to regain hir emotional balance. And your team might be sympathetic and well-meaning but all it would do is unbalance hir, set hir healing back by years. You understand?"

Harry clasped Draco's shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment to relish the feel of the Resonance between them. He opened his eyes slowly and stepped back. "I understand. Their identities aren't pertinent to our investigation and as it is now, the records show that only you and Sirius are Anna's parents." He offered Draco a small smile. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

Draco nodded, relieved. "Thank you, Potter."

"It's Harry."

The blond smirked. "Harry, then. Now if you don't mind, i_Harry_/i, I'd like to go home. Mark was kind enough to bring me a change of clothes and some work from the office, but I've fallen very far behind this weekend and I have several contracts and proposals to review before tomorrow. And I'm in desperate need of a shower and a stiff drink."

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. "Er, speaking of...I'll need to assign a guard to your house for the duration. And things-erm-as they are I reckon it's best if I do it myself."

Draco waved hir elegant hand. "I assumed as much, Po—Harry. Helene has already made a guest room available for your use." The corner of hir mouth quirked up. "Though I'd step tenderly, if I were you. It seems you've made a rather poor impression on my housekeeper, and Helene, Squib or no, is a very formidable woman."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah," he sighed. "Look, about that—I stepped wrong with her from the beginning but it'd be nice not to have to deal with a lot of open hostility for so many hours a day. If I make an apology, do you think she'd—"

Draco's smirk was full-on. "Don't worry, Harry. Helene is a perfectly reasonable woman when it comes down to it. Enough sincere grovelling and I'm sure she won't even be trying to poison you by the second day."

"Great." Harry rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well, shall we go, then?" The blond cocked hir head. "Now that I've been reassured of Anna's safety, I really am anxious to be home."

* * *

They Flooed directly to the cottage from Remus' quarters, and distracted by thoughts of what had been a long and emotionally taxing day, Harry tripped over his feet stepping out of the grate.

"Very graceful, Po—Harry," Draco smirked, standing further into the room with hir arms crossed over hir chest. Helene tittered behind hir.

"Draco tells me you'll be staying a while, Auror Potter," the young housekeeper said coldly after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Harry nodded. "Until hir safety is assured and whoever is behind these attacks is in Azkaban, Mrs. Raedler."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Helene, honestly. Auror Potter and I have…reached an understanding—buried the hatchet, as you Yanks say."

Harry stepped forward and extended a hand to the suspicious American. "I'm sorry you and I got off to such a poor start, Mrs. Raedler. I acted childishly and rudely. I'm hoping we can start again?"

Harry smiled tentatively, disarmingly, and his expression held the same mix of cautious optimism and regret that had derailed her anger every time one of the children from the orphanage had faced her over some spot of mischief. Shaking her head and muttering something about being a soft touch, Helene took Harry's hand, noting Draco's small approving smile and nod over the Auror's shoulder. "All right, Auror Potter." She smirked and sighed. "Helene Raedler, nice to meet you."

Harry smiled broadly. "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Raedler." He pumped her hand gently. "Auror Harry Potter."

Helene shook her head as a patient smile grew. "All right, let's get you settled," she said after a moment when Draco stepped forward and laid hir hand on her shoulder tenderly.

"It's all right Helene, I'll take him up. I know you've been waiting to interrogate me." The corners of hir mouth turned up a bit. "I'll get Harry sorted and meet you and Lars down here for tea in a few minutes." Hir eyes twinkled a bit. "I wouldn't say no to a bit of your onion tart as well."

With an affectionate tap Helene shooed them away and turned for the kitchen. "You're as bad as Lars," she threw over her shoulder as the Auror and the mage headed up the stairs.

"You love it!" Draco called out cheekily, steering Harry further down the hall. Sie opened a plain door into the most ostentatious room Harry had seen in the small house thus far. It was exactly the kind of room that only days before Harry would have thought Draco would claim for hirself; heavy ivory brocade with gold fringe hung from the windows and around the bed, matching the embroidered ivory duvet and setting off the sheen of the dark wood antique tallboy, bedhead, and vanity with their inlay and carvings.

Perceptive as ever, Draco swept hir arm in a wave at the room. "It's probably a bit much for your tastes, P—Harry; ours too, truth be told. But Pansy insisted, and as it's hers and Blaise's more often than not, it made sense to fit the guest room in a way she would appreciate." Sie shrugged slightly with one slender shoulder. "We live rather simply here," Sie smirked. "Well…simply in comparison to what most would expect of the Malfoys. Just make yourself comfortable." Sie turned to leave the room, but turned hir head when sie reached the door, "You're welcome to join us in the sitting room. Helene's tarts really are very good."

Harry's stomach fluttered for reasons that had nothing to do with hunger when Draco smiled genuinely as sie left. Shaking his head at his own reactions, he pulled out his shrunken bag to unpack and wash up.

When he came downstairs he found Draco and Lars playing chess on an antique Muggle-style board and Helene expertly knitting a cheery blue jumper from her seat on the sofa. A newscast was quietly broadcasting from an Orb in the corner and Draco nodded here and there in response to the reporter's commentary and took a bite of tart. The scene was settled, peaceful, and very obviously routine. Harry thought of his own usual evenings and wished he'd had people to come home to; often he felt as though he and Kreacher rattled around in the old Black homestead, but its days as a bustling meeting place, full of people and news, had ended with the war.

Harry sat himself next to Helene and eyed the jumper. "For Anna?"

Helene smiled. "It's a Christmas tradition in my family. My mother used to make us each a new sweater every year." She ran a hand over the nubby blue boucle. "I saw this yarn at shop in the village and knew Anna would just love it."

Harry was a little surprised that she shopped in the Muggle village, but he reminded himself he was working on fostering a better relationship with Helene and kept his comments to himself. Instead he asked about Ameinias, convinced he would be more open to the discussion this time around. Helene smiled knowingly.

"I take it you've been asking around of people you trust?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not entirely comfortable with it all yet. For a long time I've considered that line of thinking to be nonsense and propaganda. But I spoke to a friend, a teacher, and the Headmistress about it and learned that knowledge of Ameinias has been suppressed or deliberately muddied at Hogwarts for years. You seemed to know a lot about it, so I just thought..." He shrugged.

"Yes, well, I can understand where you're coming from, considering the damage the Death Eaters and pure-blood supremacists like Voldemort and Lucius did." The click-click of needles paused and Helene patted Harry's hand. "Extremists are dangerous, Auror Potter—"

"Harry," he interrupted.

"—Harry," she nodded. "They take common or rational notions and pervert them, use them to divide and control people. That's not what Ameinias wanted for us. His purpose was to make wizardkind more aware of the need for stewardship of our gifts." She gazed intently at Harry. "Magic is a gift, wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

He bowed his head a bit, almost afraid to counter that gaze even though he honestly did agree.

"Then it's important to our world to understand as much of that gift as possible. Yes, magic can die out in a bloodline; we know now as Ameinias didn't that it may i_also_/i re-emerge in a bloodline, or spontaneously appear in a Muggle line. We don't know how or why that happens in the case of true Muggle-borns—maybe Magic senses a lack of magic users in the world, or that the traits in a particular family would be augmented by Magic's presence and bring our world needed strengths."

"Granger's ability for logic and focus, for example." Draco stepped in, tipping hir king over as Lars smiled his victory. "I've looked into her genealogy, and as far as I can tell she's a true Muggle-born, not a case of re-emergence from dormant bloodlines. Her magical power is limited, but she has numerous other talents our community needs and benefits from."

Harry blinked. "I wouldn't have expected such glowing comments from you considering your exchange with her the day of the conference, Director Malfoy," he mocked lightly, inclining his brow and tilting his head.

"I didn't say I liked her personally," Draco smirked. "I find her an irritating little know-it-all who's limited by her own interpretations of things and by a blind allegiance to vetted authority figures," sie shrugged. "But she's not talentless. There are lots of people I don't like who make fine mages, wizards, and witches, who make us stronger and more true to ourselves and our magic."

"More true to ourselves?"

"Ameinias' concept of stewardship," Helene answered. "We are stewards of the gift of Magic. Our duty to ourselves, our world, and our children is to preserve and further Magic's use and growth. Being true to ourselves as magical beings, respecting each other and the gift we've been given is vital to our survival and future."

"So it's not really about being pure-blooded for you, is it?" Harry asked generally of the room, catching Draco's eye.

The magnate scoffed. "We saw how far that got us, didn't we? Honestly, Harry, do you really consider my father an example of stewardship of anything but his own wealth and power? Magic demands of us a certain collective consciousness and responsibility. Renaissance Foundation works to make that responsibility known and understood. We use labels like 'Wizard-born' because they're convenient, but it's not about blindly adhering to old customs and traditions. Magic is a semi-sentient mystical force that lives within each of us. As we grow and are exposed to different cultures and ideas, so too does Magic grow and adapt. But we must also be careful to find a balance, to not be subsumed by the other cultures we encounter. Exposure to mainstream Western Muggle culture has brought us great innovations—" he motioned to the Orb— "but it's also brought us great persecution, and some ideals and principles that have harmed rather than helped us. We need to hold onto our pride in being Magical beings and the differences that separate us from Muggles without being hateful about them."

Harry smiled faintly as Draco's speech became more impassioned. The fire and excitement brought an alluring flush to hir cheeks, and hir hands cut gracefully through the air, wrists flashing and fingers twirling around as sie made motions to encompass "us" and "we." Harry liked that he too was part of the community Draco was so vividly describing, and so passionately committed to.

The four spoke late into the night, and Harry got a crash course in some of the philosophy and magical theory that drove the efforts of Renaissance Foundation and people like Helene, Lars, and Draco. He respected their drive to keep their heritage alive and thriving and really took to the analogies Helene made between magical people and the First Nations communities in Northern America, who also fought to keep their traditions alive and growing. Renaissance Foundation wasn't advocating wholesale isolation but trying to maintain their resources and pride in the uniqueness of the magical world in light of greater exposure to outside influences and cultures. He understood now, and also knew that there was a long battle ahead for the minds and hearts of the magical community, given both Voldemort's and Dumbledore's legacies.

Finally, as Helene ushered them off to bed, Harry leaned over to Draco and brushed a light hand over the other's shoulder. "I talked to Remus about Resonance too," he whispered as the blond shuddered delicately. "It seems all of this has given me a chance to maybe be more true to myself, as well."

Gleaming grey eyes met his steadily. "We will speak more of this then, I assume?"

Harry rolled his shoulders, a now familiar rush of warmth suffusing him. "We will, if you're willing."

Draco studied him some moments more and slowly inclined his head. "I am...agreeable." Sie offered him a slight grin. "Good night, Harry."

Feeling bold, Harry smiled and ghosted a kiss against Draco's cheek. "Pleasant dreams."

Draco drew back, shaking hir head in amusement. "Indeed."

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N: **Betas Mamacita-san and refuz2luz took on this chapter with their usual brilliance, any remaining errors are mine. Draco's reading list contains (big surprise) some of my favourite reads: _Arab Warlords and Iraqi Star-gazers _by Gertrude Bell, and _Kushiel's Justice _of Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel series.

And thank you, thank you for the reviews!! I'm such a review junkie!

* * *

**9.**

Despite the promise held in that night, neither Harry nor Draco mentioned Resonance again in the days which followed. It seemed unspoken between them that while their attraction to each other and the implications of resonating so strongly was important and needed to be addressed, the investigation and safety of Britain's triarii was first priority for both.

Weeks passed and Harry's team was no closer to solving the murders than they'd been at the beginning. On the plus side there'd been no further attacks; it seemed the well-publicised Auror investigation along with the small army of security agents hired by Renaissance Foundation had intimidated the perpetrators. On the negative side, as with every crime that didn't feed the public's need for spectacle and salaciousness, pressure was coming down on Harry's team to scale back their investigation and turn their attention to other things—in other words, the higher-ups wanted to end the security detail.

Harry thought this was a horrible idea, not least because it would bring his daily proximity and light flirting with Draco to an end. He was nearly defeated by the bureaucratic machine until he played the hero-of-the-Voldemort-war card. The concessions he garnered were minor: his team would continue working the investigation, but only he would be assigned to Malfoy. And though he grumbled, that actually suited Harry just fine. Between Paul, Nick Thomas, who was brought in to replace Soren in Draco's personal security detail, and himself, Harry was confident they could keep the young magnate safe; though if anyone was trying to determine Draco's habits in order to make an attempt on hir life they had a very easy job. While the dynamic mage was certainly a genius, mercurial, and possessed of intense energetic innovation, sie also kept a schedule that was the textbook definition of predictable. And Harry had quickly settled into hir routine.

The flirting and innuendo and careful proprietary touches that sent the warmth of Resonance thrumming through him were the highlights of Harry's days. They kept him energised and mindful of a future where he could enjoy Draco's company more fully without devoting so much of his time to worry and thoughts of justice for the victims who'd already lost their lives. Keeping up with the blond triarii in the meanwhile generally meant wild surges between mind-numbing boredom as sie carried out the minutiae of running the Renaissance Foundation and hir massive media empire, and vast excitement as sie launched into a new project or worked on magical experiments.

Mondays were spent completely at the office. Malfoy accepted no appointments or visitors and sie and Mark, hir secretary, were sequestered in the Director's gargantuan office from early morning to late evening. These were what Harry privately called the "genius at work" days. Draco seemed to be in a dozen places at once as sie tweaked spell combinations, brewed obscure potions and tested their interactions, fiddled with all sorts of magi-lectrical equipment and prototypes, and took or dictated notes on a dizzying number of subjects. Usually Harry was exhausted by lunch just watching Draco shift from plan to process to product. And by the time Mark turned pleading eyes on him to help get the multi-tasking madmage out of the office, Harry was completely drained and ready for a delicious dinner with Helene and Lars and for his wonderfully comfortable borrowed bed.

Not that getting Draco home actually did him much good, since the triarii typically was wound up for most of the evening and continued working on things sie'd brought home from the office until a fed-up Helene would order hir to "put it all away and go to bed already!"

On Tuesdays Draco had lunch with hir "Aunt Andy", and it took Harry a good fifteen minutes to control the fits of sniggering that threatened when the good-humoured Andromeda Tonks showed up at the office for their lunch dates. It was also hir "placate the socialites" day, Harry came to learn, and after a chatty lunch with an aunt who had no compunctions about sharing all sorts of embarrassing stories about her favourite "baby boi", Draco attended various teas and ladies' auxiliary meetings listening to blue-haired biddies and up-and-coming social matrons (who obviously had more Galleons than sense, if their outlandishly fussy dress robes and spell-enhanced bustlines were any indication) prattle on about the miserable state of this or the appalling state of that while touting the good work of the Renaissance Foundation or an exhibit at the Heritage Museum, or a new artist whose work was being displayed at the Isis (and though he did ask around, Harry never did quite learn what exactly the ladies were auxiliary to). Inevitably, though, they left those torturous sessions with promises of some favour or another and cheques for the Foundation. Draco never managed to eat much during these fashionable fetes, Harry noticed, which was good considering the house-elves at Heritage House would put even Molly Weasley to shame with the spread they laid out on the table on Tuesday evenings.

Even Harry, who had developed a prodigious appetite after years of sitting at the Weasley matriarch's table, often had a hard time clearing his plate and being gracious with the elves who seemed to take offence at anything less than stuffed cheeks when they took their evening meal with the children of Heritage House and the boarders of Heritage Academy on Tuesdays. Harry was often a little jealous of Draco, who seemed to escape the wrathful elves by switching tables mid-meal, always engaging the children in conversation about what they were learning, how they were feeling, how they enjoyed their lessons and games. Harry watched with awe as the infamous Malfoy charm was turned on the most exuberant and shyest alike, and the children's brightness flared to brilliance under Draco's attention. Sie used the time after dinner to meet with the orphanage's director, asking about recently placed children or what, if anything, was needed. Sie was hands-on but sie didn't micromanage, Harry learned.

Draco had hired competent, trustworthy people who loved their jobs, and it showed. Sie made it hir business to be informed and involved personally, but not because sie had to worry about mismanagement. On lighter evenings like Tuesdays and Wednesdays Draco sat up with Lars and Helene playing cards and board games or chess. Sometimes they'd watch concerts or debates on the Orb and have friendly arguments about style or points of view that kept them going until it was time for bed.

Wednesdays were also lighter days which held more meetings—mostly at Renaissance Foundation, though the Director had also gone to meet with managers at Malfoy Manufacturing, curators at Heritage Museum, buyers at Isis Gallery, or the research and development team at the Thaum Centre. Thursdays were more of the same, only the meetings included just the Renaissance Foundation staff, though Draco did mysteriously disappear for a few hours on those days in Paul or Nick's company to a location sie wasn't sharing with Harry for any reason. It frustrated the Auror, and was admittedly suspicious, but Harry was reassured that nothing dangerous or illegal was going on, and the location itself was currently under Fidelius so was as secure as they could possibly make it.

On Thursday nights Draco went to Transcendence to meet with Steph and to see and be seen. Harry learned, much as he had that first time, Draco enjoyed flirting, being the centre of attention, and sie never accepted any of the numerous offers even if the growling emanating from Harry hadn't been a deterrent. And though they never graced the dance floor together, Harry always had fun. He loved being at the club because Draco took advantage of every single chance to touch and move sinuously against him, driving the thrum between them nearly to a frenzy. Not that any of that, or the furious wanking sessions he treated himself to when they left, ever made it into any of Harry's reports.

And then there were Fridays. Harry dreaded Fridays because there was always some fundraiser gala or Ministry function to attend. Oh, Draco might have had few friends in the Ministry, but the game would be played. Sie was powerful and they all knew it, so phoney smiles were plastered on and political posturing ensued. Draco was circumspect these nights; the casual touches between them never raised suspicion, but they comforted Harry nonetheless and assured him that Draco felt as strongly as he did about them eventually belonging to each other.

But the best days, in Harry's view, the days that made the week of boring meetings, boring bureaucrats, theoretical babble Harry was sure could stymie even Hermione, and boring business bearable, were Saturdays—because on Saturdays, Draco visited Anna.

This Saturday began as had all the others. Harry gasped himself awake and shook off another lusciously erotic dream of Draco arching beneath him, writhing in pleasure as they stroked each other to completion. He mused, in that muzzy post-orgasmic fuzz that lingered, that his dreams while very, very good, were somewhat disappointing in that they were always rather ambiguous. Despite Draco's penchant for clingy clothing, Harry had no clear image of what the mage looked like beneath the flowing robes and tailored tunics. He had no doubt that when hir willowy body _was_ finally revealed to him, Draco would be beautiful beyond anything he had imagined. He was just a little frustrated that it was taking so long to actually get to that point.

Waving a hand to clear the mess from his body and sheets, Harry chuckled at his own impatience. It was only a month since he'd thought he couldn't stand the aristocratic mage, and now he found himself desperate to be in hir pants...or was it knickers? Again he smiled at his own silliness; either way, he knew he was falling hard for the changeling mage. Body and soul.

But now the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet gingerbread was calling, and before he could work himself up over what Draco did or did not wear under hir robes, he needed to get himself moving. It was a landmark day, after all. He'd be handing Draco hir arse later, as they'd finally given in to the pleading girls and would play a Seeker's game on the Hogwarts pitch this morning. Harry spared a brief thought to other ways in which he wished he'd be handing the former Slytherin hir arse, but he made himself focus on the thrill of his coming victory. Sure, it'd been years since he and Draco had flown against each other—and he might be heavier, older, and a bit slower on a broom than he'd been in his Gryffindor golden days—but he was still a damn fine Seeker. His team in the Ministry's Interdepartmental league was undefeated with him as starting Seeker, and had been for three years running. He was sure his little triarii brainiac was long out of practice, but sie had another think coming if sie expected anything less than the hardcore, winner-takes-all, hyper-competitive play they'd made infamous during their Hogwarts years.

After a quick shower, Harry plopped a bag with his Quidditch gear next to his seat at the kitchen table and reached out to meet Lars' hand, a steaming cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it extended to him in the man's giant paw. "Morning, Lars," Harry chirped at the man's smiled greeting (Lars, he'd come to realise, was a man of very few words), and he sat down to sip at the aromatic brew.

Helene grinned and laid a plate with a light breakfast before him. "Ah, I see someone is in a good mood. Feeling confident, are we, Harry?"

Draco snorted lightly behind the morning's _Prophet_. "He always was an arrogant little sod. I'd say it's a bit premature to be planning your victory lap already, Potter. I'll have you know the intervening years have seen a dramatic increase in my already formidable skills. You're in for quite the struggle to best me today."

Harry smiled around a fork loaded with fried egg and bacon. He swallowed and winked at his adversary. "Then I suppose it's on, Malfoy. I've gained a few tricks myself, you know."

Lowering the paper, Draco wrinkled hir pert nose. "A few pounds, you mean. I have serious doubts you'll even be able to keep up with the Snitch, lugging that lard around the pitch."

"Fat? Hah! This is all muscle, Malfoy. Just because puberty seems to have passed you by, don't get tetchy with the rest of us."

Waving an expressive hand, Draco referred to the men in the room. "You mean just because I'm obviously not part-giant like the rest of you brutish lunkheads. Don't worry, Potter, you'll be singing a different tune soon enough. It's sleek strength like mine that makes for the best Seekers."

Enjoying the banter, and Draco's sly smile, Harry reached around the mage's slender waist and pulled hir down the bench into his body. "Perhaps. But there are definite advantages to brute strength as well. Wouldn't you say?" he whispered in hir ear, revelling in the warm rush of Resonance and the heat rising from Draco's reddening face.

"Ha-Harry," the blond gasped.

Harry smirked and bussed a brief kiss over Draco's cheek. "Soon."

The mage nodded, flushed with desire and longing. "Yes," sie promised. "It's time."

Harry released hir and pressed another faint kiss across hir knuckles. "Yes, time for me to show Anna and the girls what a champion Seeker looks like in action," he winked, lightening the charged atmosphere.

Draco smiled hir thanks for the reprieve and scooted back down the bench. Sie might have been given quarter by Harry, but the reprieve wasn't to last long.

Helene smirked at them over her coffee. "Hmm. Well, this is an interesting development. Care to enlighten us about how long this has been going on, Draco?"

The triarii blushed deeper. "As of yet there is nothing 'going on', as you say, Helene. Po—Harry and I are coming to an understanding."

Lars chuckled. "An 'understanding', is that what they call it now? In my day we'd just say you had the hots for each other."

Regaining his customary composure, Draco frowned. "What it _is,_ Lars, is none of your business," sie huffed and rose from the table. "Helene, please pack the biscuits for the girls. I'll be ready to leave as soon as I fetch my kit."

"Ooh, hot and _very bothered_, I'd say, Lars," Helene said, ignoring Draco's comments as sie flounced out the kitchen's swinging door.

Paul shook his head from where he'd been watching in the corner. "Leave hir be. You guys know how difficult this sort of thing is for hir."

Helene smiled sadly. "I know, but it rarely happens that we get to tease hir like this." She nodded at Harry. "You've been good for hir. Sie smiles more now, and sie's needed someone to love hir, be there for hir, more than just me and Lars and Anna." She looked sadly into the middle distance. "Someone to remind hir to live in the now, and find more to enjoy in life than work or future change." She turned to him and sighed. "Thank you, Harry."

He smiled softly back. "Sie's changed me too, Helene. I-I'm really glad we've found each other."

"That's exactly it, isn't it? That you've found each other, discovered in each other what you can be together."

Harry flushed a bit under her intent gaze. "I don't know what it is, or what we will be, just yet. But I do know that Draco is amazing, and I really—well..." He shrugged. He'd never been the most articulate person, and no matter how fond he'd come to be of Helene and Lars he wasn't quite willing to put his feelings into words for them yet. Not when there was still so much unsettled in him, and so much he'd yet to share with Draco. When he did have the words, Draco should be the first to hear them.

Helene seemed to accept this and gestured toward his gear. "Well, then, we'd best get going. The girls won't wait for their gingerbread, you know."

Harry chuckled, thinking about the way Meghan had nearly attacked him last week to get to the warming tin. "No, they really won't..."

Julian popped into his kitchen frame just then. "Draco's ready. Sie says to tell Potter it's too late to back down from the challenge now, so to stop dragging his sorry arse." The little boy giggled at the naughty word and waved them all toward the door.

"That's me told then, innit?" Harry grinned as he threw the strap over his shoulder. It really was shaping up to be a wonderful day. He couldn't wait to share it with Anna.

* * *

Of course he didn't actually get much time with Anna once they'd reached Hogwarts. They Flooed to The Three Broomsticks and Apparated to the gates where the girls and a sizeable crowd had gathered to wait for them.

Handing the tin over to the shyest of the quintet, Lisa from Hufflepuff, Harry nodded at the crowd. "What's this, then?" he asked her with a small smile as Draco and Anna headed off hand in hand toward the school.

"Oh, well, loads of people heard you and Mer. Malfoy were having a little competition today and decided to show up, Aur—er, Mr—uh—Harry," she relayed in a squeaky whisper.

Harry shook his head, remembering how Draco loved playing for a crowd, and maybe getting a little nervous. He hadn't played for an audience this size since his school days.

"C'mon, Potter! You aren't about to bow out now, are you? Your adoring public awaits!" Draco called back with a smirk.

"Oh, sie's in trouble now." Harry winked at Lisa. "I'm going to wipe the pitch with hir ferrety ar—er—self," he quickly censured himself and lifted Lisa onto his shoulders since Paul and Nick had gone ahead with Draco and Anna.

"That's the spirit, mate! He's never beaten you, and today's no different!" A familiar and welcome voice called out from ahead of him as they made their way down the path through a cheering crowd.

Harry turned and greeted his best friends and their team. "What's this? I can't believe you lot are all here!"

Seamus chuckled as Harry lifted Lisa down. She wanted to run ahead with the others and Harry, it seemed, might be a while with these official-looking adults.

Seamus pulled at the collar of his navy robe. "Technically we're all on official duty since there're a good number of people who might be targets who plan to attend the match."

Hetty nodded. "The Heritage Youth chapter at Hogwarts decided to stage an impromptu information session after the match and they're servicing brooms as a fundraiser this afternoon, so a good number of people from Renaissance Foundation are here."

Harry nodded, already processing the crowd and reviewing the day's schedule for threat assessment. "Right then, pair off and patrol the stands during the match. We'll be staying for lunch and then I assume Dr—Malfoy will address the crowd during the information session. So I'll be staying close to hir during that. We stay alert, and if anything suspicious goes down we act first, remove to the Ministry, and assess. In the case of rapid response, Tonks, Hetty, and Seamus will remain on-site until the situation is resolved. Ron, Hermione, and I will return to the Ministry and conduct interrogations. Everyone clear?"

"Yes, sir," the team replied, and all pairs split off to patrol except Ron and Hermione, who lagged behind.

"Harry, mate, watch your back up there. You know how easy it is to attack someone in the air."

Harry nodded. "I know. I should've thought of all this before." Agitated, he raked a hand through his hair. "But we'll just have to make do. There are Anderson agents on hand, so we've got manpower if we need it. I'll make sure Draco's personal detail is alerted. Christiansen is shadowing Anna, so we know she'll be safe. I think it'll be fine, Ron."

"Draco's detail?" Ron gaped. "Since when are you so chummy with the ferret, Harry?"

Harry spared him a cool glance. "Look, Ron, the last month has been...intense. I've spent a lot of time with Draco. Sie's different than you—than we—thought sie was. Sie's funny and brilliant, and yes, we've become friends; hard not to when you're living in each other's pockets for weeks on end."

Hermione frowned. "Just don't lose your objectivity, Harry. Whatever else sie may be, Malfoy has never been harmless. We don't want you getting hurt if it turns out sie's using you for some scheme."

"Give me a little credit for being able to read people, 'Mione," Harry huffed. "Draco isn't out to hurt or use me. Sie's just trying to survive this madness and get on with hir life." _A richer, fuller life with me in it_, he thought briefly.

"I don't know," she sniffed. "You've been shown in the papers with hir at all these events over the last few weeks, and it's awfully convenient that the Heritage Youth are having this fundraiser today. To most people it's going to look like you support the Renaissance Foundation and their agenda. That's dangerous, Harry."

He shrugged. "As it happens, I do support them." He tapped under his friend's chin as she gaped. "We can talk about it later. Right now I have a Seeker's match to win."

He strode off toward the pitch, leaving his gobsmacked friends to begin their patrol.

* * *

Harry angled himself for a feint just as Draco made a second circuit around the pitch. It was a great morning for Quidditch. The sun was out, the air was brisk but not too cool, the wind was just right for flying, and Harry was having a fantastic time. Madame Hooch had explained the challenge and rules for their audience, her authoritative voice booming across the pitch, and released the Snitch for the first of their five games. The Snitch was on a twenty-minute timer for Seekers' matches and seemed to make up for its lack of autonomy by encouraging breakneck speed and manoeuvres that were even more daring than usual.

Harry was in his element, but so too was Draco. The slighter mage had been right in his assessment of Harry's weight; the greater muscle mass was making it more difficult for Harry to follow many of Draco's moves. And damn, what moves! The former Slytherin had always flown with grace, but now it was paired with a weathered determination and skill sie'd lacked in school. The combination was impressive, and sie now had the confidence to try feints and dives Harry had only seen professionals attempt, and he spared a moment to wonder with whom Draco had been training and where. And it was a moment too long...

"Not as simple to best me as you'd thought, is it, Potter?" Draco crowed, arm upraised and Snitch in hand. Hir eyes were brilliant with excitement and joy. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he imagined a similar glint would be featured in those frequent erotic dreams from this point on. He shook off his musings and smiled back.

"It might be 2-1 in your favour, Malfoy, but the game's not over yet. You know what happens when people underestimate my motivation to win!"

Draco scoffed and Harry proved his point when he won the next round in just under five minutes with a spectacular dive that had all the spectators holding their breath.

In the brief seconds of silence before the crowd went wild Harry heard Anna shout. "Great catch, Harry!" and shared a smile with her and her bemused vamar, who was shaking hir head in awed disbelief.

With the score tied, the next round was indeed as vicious and challenging as any they'd played as teenagers. It was definitely no holds barred, and Harry gave as good as he got: taunting, and feinting, sometimes even kicking at Draco's broom. He played as dirty a game as he ever had. It was worth it, though, it was the most exhilarating flying he'd ever experienced; and as his hand closed over the Snitch for the last time, he gave in to the victorious laughter bubbling through every corner of his mind and heart.

Which was why he was slightly confused when his arm rose independent of his will. He looked to his closed hand and then to Draco, who wore the wickedest smirk he'd ever seen.

"You can let go of my hand now, Potter."

Harry blinked. It was true: his hand was closed around the other Seeker's clenched fist, not the Snitch. Harry nearly fell off his broom laughing. "I'll be damned! Good—no, _great_ game, Malfoy. Congratulations!"

Smiling, Draco inclined hir head slightly as Hooch rose to confirm the win. Harry backed away and bowed to his opponent, then added his own hands to the applause that filled the stadium.

Harry wasn't able to meet up with Draco and the girls until long after they'd landed into the crowds that spilled out onto the pitch. Harry was worried until he saw the Anderson agents clearing a path through the crowd for the young magnate and the girls trailing behind hir like a mother goose and eager, gangly goslings. Ron and Seamus, both bemoaning the Galleons they'd lost on the day's wagers, cornered Harry for a good fifteen minutes. Then he'd had to check in officially with his team of Aurors, who hadn't noted any unusually suspicious activity during the match. He released them all to continued patrols for the remainder of the day and scheduled a briefing for the following Monday if there were no new developments. They were all frustrated with how the case had stalled, but unless there were new leads there was nothing for them to do but continue going through membership rolls and try to establish closer connections between the victims. Something had to give, and each of them hoped the case would break before someone else lost their life.

While Harry met with his team the Heritage Youth set up their broom-servicing stations on the pitch. There were separate areas for polishing, twig grooming, and alignment diagnostics (that one manned by advanced upper year students). Harry was impressed by how well-ordered and proficient the children seemed, and he smiled his acknowledgement to the student he remembered from the triarii students meeting who was madly waving a cloth from the polishing station. It was good to see the boi happy and feeling secure with hir environment, so different from the shy and apprehensive child he'd first been introduced to.

_This is what Draco is fighting for: acceptance and safety for that boi and every other one like hir. Sie's a general now—using different strategies, but it's the same damn war._ Harry sighed and headed for the showers. He'd been a soldier from age eleven. Did the fight never end? He'd once thought that peace and a secure future had been won with Voldemort's demise. But he saw now that he'd become an Auror because part of him understood that the fight was never over. There was always injustice to be fought, violence and evil to be stopped, and innocents worth protecting. Fighting the good fight was all he knew, and he was content with that; and if he'd gained maturity in his perspectives in the last month and understood better how much was at stake in this latest battle for hearts, minds, and lives...well, then it just made him more determined to win.

He'd refused to lose Ron and Hermione to Voldemort's evil, and the intolerance spread by people like Lucius Malfoy; he'd fought for them then. He refused to allow Anna to grow up in fear, hating or denigrating herself for her difference; nor would Draco hide hirself away; he'd fight for them now. He'd fight for magical beings to be proud of themselves and their gifts, to further their abilities; as always, he'd fight for a better future.

_And I'll fight to get Ron and Hermione on my side through it all. Not that I'm looking forward to that conversation, now I've told them I'm a supporter of Renaissance Foundation, too_.

But before he had to beard that dragon, he needed a shower and the sweetness of smiling, giggling little girls. He was certain he could face even Hermione's staid disapproval after a solid dose of the quintet's laughter—and hugs. Anna gave the best hugs. Harry smirked. Maybe if he worked it right he'd get a conciliatory kiss from today's victor as well. Running a soapy hand over his now bare chest under the steamy shower spray, he smirked. A conciliatory kiss...with tongue. _Oh yeah, there's a thought._ He reached lower_._

* * *

He finally caught up with Draco, Anna, and her friends in the Great Hall for lunch. He'd missed the information session to enjoy a leisurely wan—er...um—shower, and briefly checked in with Tonks, who'd glowered her own disapproval of the informal gathering through her entire report. Harry had thought she'd be over her initial suspicion of Draco by now, but it seemed the time on this case had worsened her opinion of her cousin, if such a thing were possible. Harry made a mental note to keep an eye out for her. Personal grudges had no place in this investigation. And he really didn't relish the prospect of going head-to-head with another friend over his developing relationship with the blond triarii. He'd assumed because of the Malfoys' close relationship with Remus that Tonks would be more approving, but once again he'd been given cause to question his own assumptions and remember that presupposing someone else's position often ended with him making a mess of things.

The girls and other students pelted him with so many questions during lunch that he only actually got a chance to eat when they were replaying the highlights of the match with their cutlery. He managed to nab the pepper just as Oonagh was animating it to mimic a dive he'd made in the second round which had many of his observers oohing and ahhing over his quick reflexes.

"You're so fast, Mr. Potter. I never would have thought you'd be able to beat Mer. Malfoy at all!" another student gushed as Harry finished with the pepper shaker.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, eh, Draco?"

The Malfoy magnate flashed him a quick smile. "So they say, Potter, but I think we've established once and for all who the better Seeker is between us."

Harry snickered. "Oh, one match can't change the fact of my winning record." He sat back and stretched. "But I am impressed. You were...magnificent out there. I play casually, you know, with my workmates and such. But you! I've never seen you fly like that. You've obviously kept your hand in."

"You could say that," sie answered, not really responding to Harry's prompt for detailed information. Anna smacked at hir shoulder.

"Vama!"

"What, Petal? I must have some secrets." Sie grinned at the girl and caressed hir hair.

"It's no secret, Harry." Anna rolled hir eyes at Draco and turned to Harry. "Vamar plays with the kids at Heritage House and Heritage Academy all the time. He's the Seekers' coach, and even has clinics with professional trainers and players who come teach the teams new things." She sniffed a bit and mock-glared at the older triarii. "Keep your hand in, indeed."

At that moment sie reminded Harry so much of the coolly responsive Narcissa Malfoy he'd glimpsed at the long ago World Cup that he couldn't help but laugh a bit. From Draco and Andromeda both he knew now that the snobbish, reserved façade Narcissa had displayed then was the public Malfoy mask of a very loving and passionate, if misguided, woman. He thought it would please her that her grandchild was so like her in both hir loving and giving nature and hir ability to play pretension when needed (or just for fun).

Draco raised a brow in question and Harry's grin grew. He leaned over and squeezed the triarii's shoulder fondly. "Just thinking how sie reminded me of your mother just now, all prim and proper in public." Catching an odd flicker in Draco eyes, Harry added honestly, "And so very beautiful."

Grey eyes softened as Draco laid a gentle hand on hir daughter. "Thank you, Harry."

The Auror winked at the gyrl and gave Draco's hand a final squeeze. "So what have we planned for this afternoon, my lovelies?" he asked the quintet.

The girls yammered on about taking the next shift at the broom-polishing station, and the never-ending mounds of homework. Their complaint was taken up by the whole table and Harry smiled to himself at how little some things had changed in the intervening years.

On a usual Saturday they'd visit for a few hours, share a meal with the girls, informally meet with triarii students, and then head off to take in an exhibit or indulge Draco's penchant for shopping. Sie absolutely haunted bookstores both Muggle and magical, Harry had found, and would often pull books from random sections to peruse while sipping coffee at the in-house coffee bars many shops offered. Last week he'd sat utterly amused as Draco simultaneously read through _Arab Warlords and Iraqi Star-gazers_, a copy of _Popular Mechanics_, and _Kushiel's Justice_, hir biro scribbling furiously across the pages of hir parchment notebook as sie flipped pages here and there, eyes darting across the pages. It was at moments like those, especially after he'd gotten Draco to explain some of what sie'd been reading, that Harry wondered how Hermione had ever managed to beat Draco's marks in school. Hers was a fine and impressive intellect, but Draco, he knew, was simply mad brilliant.

Today, though, it seemed Draco had other plans, for when they'd left the girls sie steered Harry toward a secluded area near the lake instead of the main gate. As they entered a small copse, Draco turned back to address hir guards. "We'll be fine from here; we're not going far."

Paul frowned, but Draco shook hir head and the man remained behind. A pale, slight hand clasped over Harry's. As always, the warmth of Resonance spread through them from that point of contact. "Will that always happen?" Harry asked, realising the time had finally come for them to get it all out in the open.

"More or less," Draco answered, still looking out across the lake. "We'll become accustomed to it so it won't be nearly as distracting as it is now, but during times of intense or extreme emotion we'll feel it more."

Something in Harry's chest twisted as the confidence and experience in Draco's tone registered. The mage turned to him, seemingly having read his thoughts. "At least, that's how it was for Paul and me."

Harry gasped and dropped Draco's hand. He'd read a little about Resonance in the past weeks but he didn't remember anything about having Resonance with more than one person. Had this happened because Draco was triarii? Or was it something else? Maybe Harry just wasn't enough for the mage; was there something missing or damaged in his own soul because of Voldemort? He closed his eyes and took a step away, but Draco followed and lifted hir hand to Harry's cheek. The thrum was ever so gentle this time, the tenderest caress.

"Look at me, Harry." Hir voice was soft yet commanding. Harry did not resist, and gasped again at the depth of reassurance and wanting he found in Draco's bright eyes.

"I want you to understand that this is different." Draco sighed as hir hand drifted down Harry's face and chest, crossing over to his arm and ending with hir hand once more holding Harry's. "Resonance is an indication of compatibility, remember, not a bond, not anything that forces or requires a change in the pairing. And it may manifest in varied intensities, depending on the couple. Do you think every participant at a Ring Dance only resonates with one other person?" Sie gave Harry an incredulous look. "Of course not. There are people who resonate more or less strongly with one another. It just so happens Paul was the first person I'd ever found Resonance with...and what was shared between us was merely the faintest glimmer compared to the brilliance that blazes between you and me."

"Truly?" Harry asked hoarsely, recovering himself enough to gently tuck an errant lock behind the delicate shell of Draco's ear.

The triarii squeezed his hand in reply. "Truly. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you." Sie held Harry's gaze firmly with hir own. "Trust me." The grey depths were always varied and changing, catching light here, shifting from storm cloud to silver to wind-tossed sea, sometimes with hints of blue or even violet, but there had always been a certain constancy and determination in that mercury mix as well. And there Harry found Draco's truth. A shaky nod was his reply, and sunlight gleamed from within.

Draco tugged Harry down to sit and curled into his side, arranging Harry for hir greatest comfort. Hir head on Harry's shoulder, sie spoke, as though sharing a bedtime story for Anna. "When the war ended I threw myself into laying the foundations for improvements at Malfoy Manufacturing and at Renaissance. I needed to stay busy and feel I was contributing something...building our community up after the destruction I wrought in the war, instead of cutting more Wizarding folk down."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to deny the charge Draco laid against himself, but the mage shushed him. "It's true, Harry: Light or Dark, Order or Death Eater, we all caused great destruction. And even when it was needed—or maybe _because_ it had been needed, I was sick of it.

"I decided I needed to get away. The Raedlers, Lars' parents, had been key contributors to Renaissance when it first began. You know how some Yanks are—they try to associate themselves with any- and everything traditional and British to build up their own cachet." Sie shrugged a shoulder. "They invited me to America, so I went.

"It was an amazing experience for me, Harry, one I'll share more of another time. But I met Lars and Helene, who were on the outs with their families by then. And I accompanied the Raedlers to my first Ring Dance. I'd heard of them, of course," sie said airily, waving aside the implied mastery of traditional etiquette and customs. "But there hadn't been one in Britain for ages, and though I wasn't going as a prospect, as Lars' sister was, I was happy for the invitation to see something I'd only read about or heard about from Mother's socialite friends.

"Paul's firm had been hired as security, and it was pure chance that we ended up bumping into each other and joined the Dance." Draco smiled faintly at the memory. "He was charming and kind, and very good to me—not that you want to hear that part, I suppose." Sie leaned back and cut hir eyes to Harry's with a smirk. "We courted afterward, and I honestly thought I might be happy to give up everything I'd planned for here and remain in the United States with him."

"Draco," Harry growled warningly.

"And then one day," sie continued serenely, smoothing long-fingered strokes over Harry's chest, "a very handsome and rugged man by the name of Soren Christiansen came into the office to apply as an agent." Draco shook hir head ruefully. "I was there to meet Paul for lunch, but I knew as soon as their eyes met that he wouldn't spare me another thought. It was like...being caught up in the backlash of fiendfyre, watching Resonance arc between them, Harry. It broke my heart a little—Paul's too—but I knew then that Soren...Paul is_ whole_ with him as he never could have been with me, as I never could have been with him."

Draco's hand rose and fell with Harry's deep sigh. "And us? Draco, what I feel with you—for you—"

The mage leaned even closer into Harry's side and nuzzled his neck. "With you, Harry...I burn like the centre of the sun. _We are right_. Just as Paul and Soren found perfect Resonance between them, so I have found it with you. Can you deny it? Does this honestly feel like anything less than _everything?_"

Leaning back, Draco pulled Harry with hir, the coiled strength and solid weight of hir every bit as thrilling as the sparking warmth between them. "Everything?" Harry murmured against hir soft and curving lips.

"Yes," hir answering whisper came, moist against his mouth. And they _burned_.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N:**Usual spiel, any errors that remain are mine coz Mamacita-san and refuz2luz are brilliant betas. A note for those awaiting smex...it'll be a while yet, have patience I think it'll be worth it (grin)

And…my review responses are late in coming, but they're coming, and yeah, it's been confirmed I am **such** a review junkie, thank you for being my high!

* * *

**1****0.**

Harry sighed and wiped tiredly under his glasses. Despite his mental exhaustion his body was still quite energised; hours later and his blood still simmered with the heat that had roiled between him and Draco during their interrupted snogging session. He paused a moment to smile. Those kisses had been positively incendiary..._Merlin_, and the way Draco _moved_. The triarii fitted against him every bit as perfectly as he'd imagined—better. But then, as now, the sharp heated vibration of his AFR kept things from going further; again Harry dutifully pulled away from Draco (or thoughts of hir, anyway) to answer sharply.

"Potter."

"Sorry, Harry." Tonks' voice sounded low in his ear. "I know you didn't want to be disturbed during your initial review of the new reports, but Kingsley and Arthur are down here with the press corps waiting for you to make a statement."

Violently shoving a stack of parchment away, Harry cursed. "Sodding vultures, couldn't they give us another couple of hours at least? Fucking hell!"

Tonks was silent on the line and Harry sighed. "Fine, Tonks, I'll be right there. Not that I have any clue about what to say to them," he grumbled under his breath as he ended the call.

Harry almost wished he could call to ask Draco to sic the_ Prophet_'s dogs on someone else. But as the Task Force leader there wasn't anyone else, and besides, the media mogul had already explained to Harry that sie pretty much left the running of Dragonheart and their media interests to Blaise Zabini. And Zabini, besides demanding a much higher standard of journalistic integrity, public accountability, and fairer broad-based reporting, refused to micro-manage, leaving the reporters to the tender mercies of a cohort of new no-nonsense editors. Unfortunately for Harry, many of those editors were sharks and favoured their own kind as underlings.

Still, he'd learned a thing or two about how to deal with the press in the last few years. So, straightening his robe, he donned the persona he'd learned worked best for the press—committed, hard-nosed Auror who tempered confidence with humility and a thirst for justice with an understanding of human failings and foibles; who had a deep and abiding respect for life and the law (he'd had _a lot_ of help from Hermione, Kingsley, and ace _Quibbler_ reporter Colin Creevey in constructing this particular public face). And though he was mostly ready for them, he was still nearly blinded by flashbulbs when the lift doors opened and nearly deafened a second later when he stepped into the Atrium, but he finally did make his way to the podium erected in front of the Fountain of Magical Brethren just in time for Kingsley and Mr. Weasley (Harry had never got used to calling him Arthur, though Molly had been "Mum Weasley" for ages) to materialise beside him.

"Certainly took you long enough, Potter," the Head Auror muttered while maintaining his smile for the camera.

"Not now, Kings," Harry gritted out in the same way. "Let's just get through this."

Mr. Weasley called for order, confirmed the basic details of the latest victim, offered his and the Ministry's condolences to the victim's family, and again promised the public that the Auror corps was doing all it could to protect the citizenry and apprehend the killer. While it wasn't easy, Harry thought he still got off pretty lightly; the scent of blood was in the water, but the sharks hadn't quite homed in on their main prey just yet.

Kingsley took centre stage and added a few details about safety measures already in place and emphasised the diligence of the Aurors assigned to the case, purposefully drawing the crowd's attention to the formation of a task force led by Auror Harry Potter. And that was Harry's cue; he could feel the feeding frenzy was about to begin. _Thanks, Kingsley._

Harry stepped forward and cleared his throat. "As our Minister and Head Auror have said, we are doing all we can to bring this killer to justice. At this moment, elements of the crime that cannot be released to the public are being analysed and processed in comparison to the other horrific murders that have taken place.

"The specialised task force, comprised of some of the Auror corps' best and brightest, is determined to prevent additional attacks, and steps have been instituted to further protect the public. A joint protection operation with Anderson Security Systems has been very effective so far, and private protection is available to those members of our community who've been specifically targeted by these attacks; we ask that if you've been approached for private protection that you avail yourselves of this additional security measure. In the meanwhile, members of the task force and I are working hard to keep _everyone_ safe. Thank you."

"Auror Potter, a question!"

_Of course. They couldn't just leave me to make my statement and go, could they?_

"Is participation in celebrity charity Quidditch matches now part of your duties for the task force? Isn't it true the latest victim was brutally slain while you were carousing with friends on your childhood stomping grounds?"

_Ah, the spiteful b—witch from WWN. I should never have gone along with Hermione's stupid blind-date plan. It's not my fault you ended up with merlot spilled all over that white cocktail dress; just because you thought groping me under the table would get you an exclusive interview..._

"Today's Seeker's Match at Hogwarts was not a charity event, merely a friendly exhibition game originally slotted for the Hogwarts Open House that had to be rescheduled," Harry answered placidly, pleased with how well he'd side-stepped the more inflammatory remarks.

"But Renaissance Foundation's Heritage Youth did host a recruitment drive and fundraiser following the event, Auror Potter?" another reporter called out.

"Yes, as a sanctioned extra-curricular club at Hogwarts, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall did give permission for Heritage Youth to fundraise this afternoon. But the club's activities have no bearing on this case, so..."

"Auror Potter, Renaissance Foundation claims some of its goals are the reclamation, rebirth, and re-emergence of Wizarding pride, culture, and community. What do you say to those statements? Do you believe this newfound 'triarii pride' movement is being targeted by this killer in response to organisations like Renaissance Foundation?"

_And this is wha__t it feels like to be shark chow...in for a Knut, in for a Galleon. I can see the Howlers steaming already, and a good dozen will come from Hermione._

Harry took a deep breath and made eye contact with as many of the reporters as he could. If he was going to stick his neck out he'd do it in a grand way, and he wanted to be sure they all understood how serious he was about his own commitment to Renaissance Foundation, how he interpreted their mission, and why he now truly supported all that Draco had been working toward. "Yes, I do _personally_ support the mission and goals of Renaissance Foundation. However, the _Ministry_, as you all know, does not endorse or advocate the aims of any one _independent_ charitable organisation over another.

"I am not aware of any 'triarii pride movement' per se, but I applaud the courage and conviction shown by those members of _our_ community who refused to be shamed into silence about their difference.

"The diversity of our people—witch, wizard, and triarii alike—is a gift of Magic, and very much an integral part of what makes the Wizarding world beautiful and unique. We, as magical beings, along with our brethren—" Harry paused to point at the statue behind him, because people sometimes refused to see the obvious unless you bludgeoned them with it—"Centaurs, Elves, Fae, Goblins, Werewolves, Veela, and others, must be united against the forces—hatred, intolerance, prejudice— that would destroy us from within.

"Maybe that's what this killer wants: for us to turn away from each other, to divide ourselves and our strength. I would remind everyone that love, unity, and acceptance are our greatest weapons against fear and dissension."

Feeling he hadn't done too badly, shades of Dumbledore and all that (no matter the man's mistakes, Harry had always thought him pretty inspiring), he made to step down from the podium but instead found himself dematerialising with Kingsley's hand tightly grasping his elbow.

The trick to dematerialising, Harry found, was a specialised Portkey designed to bypass any Ministry wards—a privilege granted only to the Minister, the Head Auror, and the Chief Unspeakable. The magics negated the flash and hook effects, but that was all pretty technical advanced stuff he wasn't likely to be interested in anyway.

However, startling Kingsley into answering his dematerialisation question wasn't as effective a diversionary tactic as Harry had hoped. His superior settled himself relatively quickly and fixed Harry with a dark glare. "Just what the fuck did you think you were doing down there?"

Harry flinched. Kingsley disdained any sort of vulgarity; that he was cursing was a very bad sign.

_At least he didn't raise his voice; then I would've really been in trouble._

"I don't see that I did anything wrong," the younger Auror replied. Harry wasn't in the mood for games, nor was he willing to be brought to heel. "I toed the Ministry line as far as the investigation goes—offered the same platitudes you and Mr. Weasley did. And yes, I made a _personal_ statement in support of Renaissance Foundation, but I think I distanced my own position from the Ministry's well enough."

"Well enough," Kingsley sneered. "Dammit, Harry! Do you have any idea how far the papers can run with this? You've just handed Malfoy and his little blue-blood brigade carte blanche! The _only_ thing keeping Renaissance Foundation from launching a wholesale propaganda war and completely overrunning every sector of society was the lack of support caused by their perceived lack of legitimacy by the general public.

And you just handed it right over with the 'Boy Who Lived' seal of approval! You know how the public feels about you, Harry—I can't believe you'd be so reckless with your reputation and the power of your endorsement."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. This was personal, then, and Kingsley was speaking more as a friend than as his superior officer, though Harry was well aware the Head Auror was certainly there with them. Still, if his friend thought to bring him to task, he had another think coming.

"Maybe it'll be enough to get _the public_ to look past the Malfoy reputation to what Draco and the Foundation are really doing—ever think of that?

"The Ministry has used the cachet of my name to further its own ends from the time I was a kid, Kingsley. Maybe I want some say, some control over these agendas.

"And I _do_ believe in what Renaissance Foundation is doing. I've put away the suspicion that blinded me to the good being done by anyone with the name Malfoy. Stop looking for shades of Lucius and the Death Eaters! Renaissance Foundation isn't angling for Muggle-born exclusion or Wizarding isolation—"

"Not yet...just control over the Ministry," the older man growled, and flung a bright blue piece of parchment at Harry's chest.

Harry looked down at the pamphlet that announced:

**VOTE FOR CHANGE THIS SPRING**

**JOHN C. DAVIS**

**MINISTER ****of MAGIC**

This message is sponsored by the Renaissance Party

"What is this? And John Davis, isn't he—"

"Cameron Davis' father, yes. He's also on Renaissance Foundation's Board of Directors, though technically the political party and the foundation are wholly separate entities.

"But read between the lines of that tract, Harry. Go through his platforms and then tell me you haven't just opened the gates to Lucius redux."

Shaken by the claim, Harry read the pamphlet carefully. He calmly met Kingsley's eyes when he'd finished. "If he wins he'll make a fine Minister."

"Wha—Harry! After all Arthur's done, you can't seriously—"

"Stop, Kings," Harry broke in coolly. "How many times have you told me to look beyond the person to the politics? I love Mr. Weasley, nothing will ever change that. I think he's a good Minister; he's got rid of a lot of the dross that's been dragging the Ministry down for decades. I think he can continue to be a good Minister, but if John Davis wins, I'd count it as a good happening if he's honest here about what he intends to do.

"I see here someone who's willing to continue the work Mr. Weasley's started and take it further." Harry snapped the tract in his fist. "This is a candidate for legal reforms and protections similar to those the current administration has in place or wants to incorporate, as well as social reforms that will make our community stronger, safer, and less divided. I won't argue against that. I see nothing dangerous or wrong here."

"No? What would you call laws that specifically target Muggle-borns, like his plans for stiffer penalties against those who violate the Statutes of Secrecy?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Kingsley. The proposal is for _everyone_ in violation, something you've been advocating for years. I should be looking in your closet for a skull mask if wanting less work for the Obliviators and a truer respect for the Statutes and how they protect us is all it takes to identify a Death Eater.

"He's also proposing harsher penalties for Muggle-baiting, especially if the victim is a friend or relative of a Muggle-born witch or wizard. And ooh, scary: he also wants earlier intervention by the Ministry for Muggle-born integration." Harry scoffed, "Better outreach for Muggle families of Muggle-borns, mixed daycare centres, and grammar schools are definitely part of this supremacist's nefarious plot."

"Yes," Kingsley retorted, "if his goal is to indoctrinate Muggle-borns to their supposed inferiority from an early age. Get them to hate and reject their homes and families, and erode their confidence in their equality to pure-bloods."

Harry sighed. "Kingsley, you can't really understand this because the Wizarding world is all you've ever known, but it's not so easy to leave everything behind as we ask Muggle-borns or Muggle-reared to do. It _was_ easy for me to give up the Muggle world because I was never really grounded there. I hated my life, my family despised me, I had no friends or connections; but most kids aren't raised like I was. And for those children, we're asking them to decide at age eleven, to accept themselves as fundamentally different from their families and turn their backs on so much of their lives.

"If we start younger, allow those children to grow up with Magic and the Wizarding world, we can find better ways to bridge that divide, simultaneously give them knowledge and pride in all facets of their identities. We can encourage acceptance, adaptation, and pride, instead of engendering envy, bitterness, and resentment in Muggle families—because c'mon, who wouldn't resent some 'weirdoes in dresses' coming along to take their child away for months on end, knowing eventually that child might not return?

"Muggle-borns need to understand that magical beings are more than just Muggles who can do magic. We are Magic, stewards and conduits of our abilities, culture, history, and traditions, as well as our innovations and discoveries.

"We can't afford to lose ourselves to some glorified past—that's the road to stagnation, isolation, and extinction; but we can't change everything about who we are to adapt to the Muggles either—that the road to exposure, the dispersion of all we are, and extinction."

Kingsley sat back and considered Harry thoughtfully. "You're saying there's another path. A way to honour the past yet keep an openness to the future...you think this is the direction of Malfoy's people."

"Not just Malfoy, but yes. This is the work of Renaissance Foundation, Kingsley, and why I support it. I want there to be magical beings forever, and for us to be proud of all that we are, all we've been gifted with. Besides, the name is Renaissance—rebirth, you know, not cloning."

At Kingsley's perplexed look, Harry smiled. "Never mind, it's a Muggle duplication thing. I'll explain later."

Kingsley was wearing _that_ look, the one that said, 'I've run out of patience with you, Potter,' so Harry stood and held out his hand. "We're all right?"

The older man nodded. "You've given me much to think about, Harry, and I will. We're fine." He shook his hand and nodded toward the door. "Enough dawdling. Go catch me a killer."

Harry sighed, thinking about the reports he'd left in his office and the newest photos of another gruesome murder, and let the angry determination rush though him. He nodded solemnly to Kingsley, both understanding that the friends would consider each other's words, but now the Aurors within were at the helm. There was justice to be wrought and their people, all of them, to protect.

* * *

It was nearly two in the morning when a light knock on the frame of Staging Room 3 disrupted the haze of mutilated bodies and grim facts that floated before Harry's bleary, red-rimmed eyes. He blinked the dryness away, thinking the hallucination would go too, but the vision of Draco Malfoy leaning casually against the doorway remained.

"The night watchman brought me up," sie said softly, and for a moment Harry was still sure he was dreaming with his eyes open.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" he croaked.

The corner of Draco's mouth turned up in a not-quite grin. "There were certainly enough nights when you and Mark chivvied me out of the office. I thought I'd return the favour." Sie crossed the room and opened a small sack to reveal a steaming cup of tea. "Not exactly a restorative draught, but I thought you could use this."

Harry sipped gratefully. "Thank you. Really, it's just what I needed." He snapped back at the bold flavour.

"Lemon-ginger," Draco answered, again having seemed to read Harry's thoughts. "Enough to perk you up for the trip home, but not so much as to keep you awake once you get there."

"I can't leave yet, not until I—"

"Harry, you're exhausted." Draco shook hir head, sending hir long blond locks swaying. "You played a full-on Seeker's Match this morning and ran around after the girls and me all afternoon. Then to deal with this mess..." Sie sighed. "And I heard the press conference. They broadcast it on Orb 14 live. What you said, Harry...what you did. I know it's going to come back at you. For certain your Weasleys and Granger will take issue, but it meant so much to so many." Sie leaned closer, and traced Harry's ear with hir lips. "So much to me. If I'd ever doubted that you and I could pair each other well, understand why we each felt passionately about what we do and how and why we do things differently, I would have lost all my uncertainty tonight." Draco slid around to Harry's back and firmly massaged his shoulders.

"You know the one thing Paul and I could never get around was that he saw me as someone who'd always need his protection. He didn't like my dedication to this 'cause,' and he couldn't understand that I'm a fighter too. My weapons aren't usually spells and hexes—I've not been on that kind of frontline since the war—but I have my own strengths. And I need someone who sees that, knows what it is to fight so hard, to keep pushing even when no one else believes. You live that passion, Harry, and that strength, and I cannot tell you how much I admire you for it.

"And how thankful I am that you're willing to partner me, believe with me that better things are possible." Draco leaned in and pressed gentle warmth to Harry's temple.

"Draco," the Auror groaned, desire and fatigue battling within him.

"I like that you want to take care of me, Harry, but never lose sight of my strength or the fact that I want to take care of you too. So will you come home with me? Now? Get some sleep and let me take care of you, so you're strong and ready for tomorrow?"

Harry melted into the strong, delicate hands. Never had anyone wanted to care for him like this—but then he'd never had a romantic _partner_ before either, someone to share in his life and give equally of their own. "Gods...Draco, yes. Let's go home."

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N:**No real warnings, same notes for any errors, and all appreciation and beta credit to Mamacita-san and refuz2luz. Uh, and if you will spare some good, health and strength inducing vibes for someone close to one of my betas who's in need of your best wishes for a speedy and lasting recovery, I'd appreciate it. And always, thank you so much for the reviews!!

* * *

**11.**

Harry had been wrong about the Howlers. The red hoard swarmed him as soon as he reached his office that next morning, and not one but _two_ dozen of them had come from Hermione, the self-same witch who now, flanked by his other best friend, glowered at Harry across his desk. Really, at this point Harry just wanted to hang his head and go right back home. And the day had started so well!

He'd come awake warm and comfortable in the guest bedroom at the cottage. Draco had in fact pushed and prodded him up and out of the office the night before, wrapped hir arms around him tightly and Flooed them home, and then put him to bed. Sie'd carefully undressed him, smoothing and stroking over his taut muscles as sie peeled each layer of clothing away. It was a testament to Harry's fatigue—or more likely to Draco's skill—that he was more relaxed than aroused by Draco's touch. And this morning sweet, strong coffee and sweeter kisses had greeted him upon waking. He'd sat up and Draco had held him. Harry was still amazed.

It was different than the hugs he'd received from friends and lovers meant to express their caring or concern or relief. This was...an embrace. Draco had merely drawn Harry against hir breasts and held him there as though he was special and needed protection from the world, or maybe just a safe place to be weary for a little while until he'd rallied his strength and was ready to face the day. Some indeterminate time later when Harry gently pulled away, Draco merely leaned down and brushed hir lips over his mouth. "I've some things I need to catch up on, so I'll be here all of today. Call me if you need me, all right?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah," he'd answered softly, considering how novel the offer was and how welcome coming from Draco. When he was leaving, Draco again slid hir willowy arms around Harry's waist and leaned against his chest. "Stay safe today, yeah?" the Auror urged, and Draco had laughed.

"Like anyone's mad enough to try and hurt me here. I live with Helene Raedler, remember?" Who, by coincidence, had come out of the kitchen at that moment cast-iron frying pan in hand, and despite the after-effects of horror awaiting him Harry had stepped through the Floo laughing.

Of course all the humour and serenity had been sucked right out of him now. He sighed. He loved them, really he did, but it was frightening how like dementors Ron and Hermione could be...

"Well, Harry James Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?" Hermione slapped the _Daily Prophet_ down on his desk. "Just look at this mess!"

He stared down at the headline, _Potter Proclaims Pride!_ and shrugged. "They could've done worse."

"Harry, this is no laughing matter. You have to take this seriously. You should call the _Prophet_ immediately to schedule an interview to make a retraction. The Renaissance Foundation people are going to be all over this! I knew Malfoy was up to something, and now because of those stupid contracts we can't even discuss what we've seen at their headquarters, or how detrimental hir agenda is for the Wizarding world. This is just terrible!" Hermione wrung her hands and started to pace, which Harry knew from long experience was not a good thing.

"We need to contact St. Mungo's immediately. And we should have our potions people do an analysis as well. That way there's doubly verified proof. Whatever it was is certainly illegal and that's a violation of hir probation, so sie should be out of our hair by late this afternoon and we can refocus on the killings. I've some ideas about tracking the parchment purchase since we've discovered it's somewhat distinctive. So Ron, you'll go with Harry to St. Mungo's now. You should probably take both Tonks and Pendleton. Hetty can bring back the blood sample for analysis and Tonks can assist in guard duty. All right, Harry?"

Harry blinked.

As sometimes happened, Harry didn't exactly follow all of Hermione's logic, so she had to repeat herself; but once she had, the look on Harry's face was enough to bring the perpetual motion machine to a grinding halt.

"Tell me you didn't just waste all that time that each of us could've been using to work on solving Leslie Redbank's murder to spin some shite theory about Draco dosing me with some kind of mind-control potion. TELL ME THAT MY BEST FRIENDS, HIGHLY-DECORATED AURORS WHO DARE CALL THEMSELVES INVESTIGATORS, DIDN'T JUST SPEND HALF AN HOUR INSINUATING THAT I AM TOO STUPID TO MAKE UP MY OWN MIND ABOUT ANYTHING POLITCAL, TOO NAIVE TO FIGURE OUT WHETHER I'M BEING USED, AND TOO WORTHLESS TO WARRANT DRACO MALFOY'S TIME AND ATTENTION OTHERWISE!"

"Bloody hell, mate! What's the ferret done to you? Where's your objectivity gone? You can't just dismiss whatever we say because you've got some sick jones. You think we haven't noticed, Harry? You're the laughingstock of the department, man. We've tried to protect you, but two months ago you never would've blown up at us like that. You need to—"

"Two months ago I wasn't in love with this arsehole's prime target. Now the two of you get out of my office. Task force meeting in five minutes. I want Leslie Redbank added to the board and any known details about hir murder yesterday. Everyone should be prepared to discuss any _valid_ theory of the crime, or information that will help us locate the suspect."

"But Harry, don't you think—I mean, maybe what you're feeling is—you do tend to act on misplaced guilt, and I think you have to consider your connection to Sirius and perhaps a sense of obligation to right the wrong committed against Malfoy..." Hermione looked as if she was about to start pacing again, but before she could start with another of her wild theories Harry spoke again, in a low voice this time and with chilling, absolute finality.

"As you value our friendship, Hermione Granger-Weasley, don't even think about finishing that thought. Now, get the hell out of my office. You have your orders."

* * *

The atmosphere was tension-filled and uncomfortable for most of the meeting. The schism between "The Golden Trio" was palpable, and with Ron's temper and Harry's mood to contend with, the team's other members were dancing amid a minefield of precarious interactions.

The task force reviewed the latest case. Leslie Redbank, forty-two, had been found murdered and dumped just off Diagon Alley. It was the boldest attack so far, occurring mid-day off a very busy thoroughfare, and obviously the killer had taken some of those factors into account as Leslie was spared the torture the other victims had endured. Sie was the only victim to die before being disembowelled and hir body showed no evidence of the Cruciatus. Leslie was also the only victim to have no connection whatsoever to Renaissance Foundation, and very few people knew she was triarii. She had lived all her life as a mundane witch.

Ron insisted they return to all the theories suggested so far, including Harry's first suspicion that perhaps the murders were part of a manoeuvre to discredit the Ministry in light of the spring elections. Now that John Davis' candidacy had been officially announced, Ron suggested the theory merited a second look.

On an ordinary day his suggestion would have been considered and kept for further inquiry or dismissed; but today was not an ordinary day, and all the task force had heard the outburst from Harry's office. And worse, Harry knew this was Ron's way of testing his _objectivity_. Really it was all he could do to keep himself from getting up and decking his best friend. Matters were not helped by Pendleton's comment that such a plot, while highly unlikely, was possible and rather darkly ingenious. So for half an hour they bandied the case notes back and forth, fitted what they merely supposed to the available facts, and worked through the likelihood that an agent of Renaissance Foundation or the Renaissance Party was responsible for the killings. Harry kept his temper admirably, reminding himself that this was necessary to finally lift suspicion from Draco and that his teammates hadn't had the same exposure or understanding of the triarii power broker so couldn't understand how far removed these kinds of machinations were from the way sie operated. In the end, though, it was a throwaway comment from Ron that finally set him off.

Harry had been reassessing the poison-pen parchment analysis since they were planning to review the information now that they'd finished (wasting time) with "new theories," so he hadn't been paying much attention to the little side conversations. All he caught really was Ron's muttered comment to Seamus about "freaks who can't decide where they want to stick their pricks," and that was _it_. Harry didn't care who the comment was referencing, though he had a good guess. He'd had enough of Ron's crap, and if the prat wouldn't keep his damn mouth shut Harry would do it for him. A second later he'd powered up from his seat and hauled Ron halfway across the conference table.

"Potter, that's _enough!_"

His fist was a hair's breadth from Ron's face when Kingsley's bark registered. Harry and everyone else in the room froze as the Head Auror and his guest made toward the conference table. The stranger, a tall, powerfully-built man carried himself with such authority that Harry was immediately reminded of depictions of Caesar. His salt-and-pepper hair was even cut and styled to match the image, and while the multiple piercings in his ears were unusual the understated jewellerymerely added to the aura of distinction and refinement. Harry was so drawn by him that it took him a moment to join the quick shuffle that saw the rest of the task force to their feet, red-faced and awkward but standing at attention.

"Sir," Harry began to address Kingsley, though not quite sure where he was going with this, "I apologise, we—"

"So much for unity and acceptance, eh, Auror Potter?" Kingsley's guest asked, looking askance at Ron. "But then I suppose it's better my husband learn now than later the kinds of men who would serve his Ministry...that is, if a _freak_ like him should be elected Minister."

Which answered just how long they'd been there listening and caused Seamus to blush furiously as Ron paled. Luckily Hetty, every bit as bright as Hermione but not nearly as showy, stepped into the tense silence.

"_Mer._ Blackforge, Auror Hetty Pendleton." Hetty stretched out her hand. "You have our deepest condolences for the loss of your child."

"Auror Pendleton, my thanks. And my apologies—it seems I have disrupted the..._work_ of your task force. I'm sure you weren't expecting civilian company, and I may have thrown your group off their stride." The tall mage smiled thinly, though no one thought it anything more than a diplomatic veneer. "I've been touring departments this morning in my duties as my husband's campaign manager, and Kingsley here didn't have the heart to tell his old training partner no when I requested to see the task force in action. I was certain to be impressed, particularly given Auror Potter's rousing comments to the press." Sie cut hir startling blue gaze across the room to pin Ron and Seamus especially, showing sie had not been impressed by the task force's display, but her eyes softened when they met Harry's and sie offered hir first genuine smile.

Still Harry was unnerved, but he tried anyway, stepping forward around the table and extending his hand to the triarii. "Mer...Blackforge," he scrambled for the name Hetty had used. "Thank you for your interest, and please know that we are committed to stopping your child's murderer and bringing them to justice."

The mage nodded, hir face unreadable, and shook Harry's hand firmly. "Whether or not your husband comes to office, Mer. Blackforge," Hetty added, "be assured that the Auror corps maintains our diligence and dedication." She bowed slightly. "I hope you will enjoy the remainder of your tour."

With another faint smile the mage again inclined hir head. "Well, Kingsley." Sie turned and stood shoulder to shoulder with the imposing black wizard. "Let's head over to the Hit Wizards; I suppose I should visit there before I leave."

"That's fine, Aubrey; Potter, my office, forty minutes." Kingsley didn't bother awaiting a reply. He and Aubrey Blackforge strode through the door, their matched pace speaking to the familiarity of each with the other's movements.

The young Aurors' collective sigh of relief almost drowned out the last of Mer. Blackforge's voice as hir smooth tenor drifted down the hall, but not quite: "Tell me, Kingsley, what standards are they using at the Auror Academy for the personality suitability assessments these days?"

Harry grimaced.

With the door now firmly shut, Hetty fell back into her chair with a thump. "Minister's son or not, Weasley, you just fucked yourself royally. You and Finnegan both."

Seamus swallowed heavily. "Well, yeah, maybe if Davis becomes Minister...but damn, what floors me is 'at bloke's one of 'em." He shook his head.

"Which _them_ are you referring to, Finnegan?" Hetty snorted. "The _parent_ of one of our victims them, or the really well-connected triarii them, or the Black Lions Auror squad them?"

Now it was Ron's turn to gulp for air. "Black Lions...he's one of them?"

"Sie," Hetty corrected. "And if by one of them you mean their captain, the legendary Auror who single-handedly took down twenty Death Eaters at the Battle of Ellis Moor in the First Voldemort War and is even more feared and respected than Mad-Eye Moody in his prime, then yes—sie is one of them."

Hetty rolled her eyes at Ron's sudden pallor. "You know, none of this should come as a surprise to any of you. You've all studied the First Voldemort War and Auror history; the name Blackforge should be familiar to you. And you've read the victim's profile." She pointed her wand at the evidence board and scrolled to Cameron Davis' profile. "Says right here," she highlighted the text, "surviving family members, parents: John Cameron Davis, father, 57; Aubrey Blackforge, vamar, 58; siblings: Maximillian John Davis, 32; Tracy Jeanine Davis-Smith, 26; Eloise Aubrey Davis, 20. Merlin's sake, Tracy was even at Hogwarts with you lot. How could you not know this?"

"She was a Slytherin," Harry sighed. "As children we assumed all we needed to know about Slytherins was that they were all Dark wizards-in-training and every one of them had Death Eaters for parents."

"Well, it might've been different if we'd known one of the little snakes had a famous Auror at home," Ron defended, his face sullen.

"Probably not, though," Hermione added truthfully, and turned to Hetty. "Do you know why the Davises didn't join the Order? I mean, we obviously could've used their skill during the war. Look at what a difference Mad-Eye made even with his declining...reputation."

Hetty shrugged. "Couldn't say for certain, but if I had to wager a guess I'd say it had something to do with the way Dumbledore wasn't too welcoming of most of the old pure-blood families. That, and for the most part the Davises were pretty staunch supporters of the Ministry—Blackforge was, at any rate. Trained with Scrimgeour, you know. I read somewhere that sie led the Homestead Militia during the war, though, so they must've split with old Rufus at some point.

"But none of that gets us any closer to our killer, so I'll just say this last bit and we can all get back to work: I wouldn't want Aubrey Blackforge as an enemy; and for those of you who are still hung up on it, not every triarii can be identified as such on sight—case in point, Aubrey Blackforge and our newst victim Leslie Redbank—so work on your gods-damned misconceptions and keep your prejudices to yourselves while you work out how stupid and juvenile they really are."

Ron and Seamus had the grace to look ashamed as Hetty crossed her arms over her chest. Harry nodded his thanks to her and waved Tonks on to update them on the latest developments in the poison-pen parchment analysis. Before she could get started, though, a great grey owl swooped in through the concealed owl-post door high in the wall. Harry vaguely recognised her as belonging to the Headmistress and quickly relieved the bird of the thick letter she carried.

"Hold on, Tonks." Harry skimmed the first few passages and sat up straighter. "Definitely hold on. We may have some new leads here."

The team buzzed with interest as Harry scanned further. "All right," he said, making sure his voice carried though he didn't look up at his team. "Hetty, you go retrieve the full allocution reports for the boys we brought in on the Anna Malfoy-Black assault. Tonks, you and Hermione need to take a look at them and get back to us with what you find out, ASAP." He carefully separated a packet from the second page of the letter and spelled it to cross the table, sparing the woman a fond look and a rakish grin as he did. "If I'm right about these, your parchment analysis report is going to need some major revising. Ron, Seamus, you're on legwork.

"I've got to meet with Kingsley and we all need something to eat. Let's meet back here at three, and we'll take it from there." He gathered up his own share of the paperwork and left for the Head Auror's office. He was somewhat baffled by Kingsley's reaction to Davis' candidacy now, considering that he and the man's veru had been training partners and were likely friends. And while Harry would have liked the chance to talk to his friend and superior to better understand, he certainly wasn't looking forward to the well-deserved bollocking he was about to receive. He knew he had it coming, though; he and Ron had crossed the line today. As the task force leader, Harry knew he was supposed to set the right example and he should have put himself beyond Ron's petty jibes.

* * *

"It seems I may not have to reprimand you at all if the look on your face is anything to go by." Harry jumped as Kingsley's deep voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up in surprise to find himself already in front of the Head Auror's door with the man standing beside him. Harry's sheepish look earned him a brief smile. "I was just returning from escorting Aubrey to the Atrium, thought I'd pace you a ways. Must've been some deep thinking for you not to notice." Kingsley opened his door and ushered Harry inside.

"Something like that," the young man grimaced. "Look, Kingsley, I'm sorry. I was bang out of line this morning. My actions reflected poorly on you and the department. I lost sight of my responsibility to my team as their leader, and to the victims. I can't—"

"Hmm...so I did interrupt another infamous Harry Potter guilt trip, then," Kingsley stepped in smoothly. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, effectively throwing Harry off his self-recriminatory track. "Spare me the baggage, Harry. You know what you did wrong and what's expected of you from this point on, yes?"

"Yes, sir." The problem with getting in trouble with Kingsley was that Harry was never sure whether he'd be bellowing or take the role of the disheartened mentor. Either way was awful, but Harry suspected his friend knew just how much Harry hated to disappoint the people he cared about and just how to use Harry's propensity for guilt to the best effect.

The imposing Head Auror nodded slightly, the very discreet golden hoop he preferred these days glinting in the spelled sunlight of his enchanted windows. "Then there's no need to discuss it further. I will say, though, you did not make as poor an impression on Aubrey as you might think. Sie was very taken by you."

"Right, I'm sure...comes in to check how far we've progressed in catching hir gyrl's killer and finds the task force's supposed leader brawling like a schoolboy." Harry snorted and scrunched through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Kings," he sighed.

"Enough, Harry. I was quite serious. Your...minor indiscretion aside—and trust me, sie was much more concerned about Weasley and Finnegan's behaviour than your response to it—sie was quite adamant that you are the right one to lead this investigation. Coming from a former Auror of Aubrey's calibre that's quite the compliment."

Harry brushed his thumb over his nose, acquiescing with ill-grace, then deferred. "About that...last night...and, well, Pendleton just tore us all a new collective arsehole for not—"

"Making the connection between renowned Auror First Class Aubrey Blackforge and Ministerial candidate John Davis?" Kingsley chuckled darkly. "I had a similar lecture direct from the source, and I guarantee the task force got off easy with Pendleton.

"In my defence, John Davis is a relatively common name, and Aubrey and I haven't really kept up with each other over the years. Sie didn't discuss hir family much when we were partners, and once we'd parted ways over my participation in the Order sie transferred to a satellite field office, and we drifted even further apart.

"Not to excuse my ignorance, but I've been a very poor friend to hir. John's candidacy has given us an opportunity to become reacquainted that I will welcome. Aubrey is likely the strongest person I've ever known; sie is incredibly loyal and good-hearted. A good friend to have, and—" Kingsley looked pointedly at Harry— "a good ally."

There was a wealth of information in that pause that Harry didn't really understand, but it seemed his friend had come around. "So..."

"So I do not envy Arthur, Harry. Come spring many of us will have to make some hard decisions." Kingsley's deep chocolate eyes were sorrowful but resolved, and Harry knew that for him more than most, the choice would be a wrenching one.

Kingsley pursed his thick lips a moment, then offered tea which he took some time to prepare. When he handed Harry a cup of the steaming brew he sighed. "Aubrey and I spoke on many things this morning; sie brought many things to my attention about the running of this department and made me seriously reconsider what I've been doing both in this office and beyond.

"I've developed tunnel-vision, according to Aubrey, and after taking stock I'm not disinclined to say the same...Harry, any lingering doubts I held beyond last night have been tempered. You will have my support in whatever comes in response to your affiliation with Malfoy and Renaissance Foundation."

Harry sank back into his chair. The Howlers were an annoyance but ultimately meant little. It was the other repercussions he'd been concerned about—the possibility of being abandoned by his friends, and political manoeuvres in the Ministry that had worried him. Now he knew he had at least one of his friends firmly in his corner, and someone more experienced in navigating the political undercurrents to watch his back in the Ministry. He _could_ face his path alone, but he'd much rather have company he could trust alongside him as a new path was blazed into the Wizarding world's future.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse

**A/N:** Next up…big clues, Harry and Ron lock horns (again), Harry and Draco get closer...not that close! Sheesh you have a dirty mind!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I make no claim to or profit from any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**A/N:**As always, my thanks to Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading this chapter. And **warning** religious mentions are made here, no offense is meant, hopefully none will be taken. And thank you for the reviews! A couple of review responses are at my LJ—Leigh, Kasiuke, you'll find yours there (link in profile). I love to hear from you so please hit the link and let me know what you think…review withdrawal is pretty ugly.

* * *

**12.** 

_Dear Auror Potter:_ 

_The purpose of this letter is two-fold. First, I must thank you on behalf of Hogwarts and her students and staff. Once again, as so often happened during your own school years, your bravery and forthrightness have served as an example of the best in Wizarding character, and inspired hope and courage in others._ 

_Last evening, as most students lounged and studied in their common rooms, your press conference was broadcast over several Orb stations. Those students who did not hear it firsthand were told by their classmates, or read this morning's coverage in the_Daily Prophet_. Not since the declaration of the Tri-Wizard tournament has a single announcement so mobilised the student body. Already I have been approached by our Head Boy and Head Girl about instituting weekly roundtable debates. Roundtables and town hall meetings will give our children the opportunity to better understand the issues that face our society, as well as articulate their ideas and opinions as they become further rooted in fact rather than conjecture. Already they have started organising and wish to begin with a discussion of the concepts of unity and brotherhood amongst magical beings. Experts on interactions between magical creatures, along with two renowned historians, have been invited to speak and moderate an open dialogue with students. _ 

_Also, and perhaps of more immediate interest to you, I have been approached by three students involved in the distribution of the hate-filled propaganda I shared with you during our visit following the death of Cameron Davis. Your allusion to the course of hatred and intolerance ending in the strife which engendered the Voldemort wars struck a chord with these students, who were already uneasy with the violence encouraged in these tracts. Despite the rhetoric they espoused, Cameron Davis was a fellow student, and h__ir death put a known face to the issue. Your words, encouraging responsibility for one's actions and to one another as beings who share in a unique and wondrous world, provided the final push for these floundering students to take hold of their courage and come forward. I feel these particular students are genuine in their remorse and I will take no further action against them beyond the scheduled parent conferences, revocation of privileges, and assigned detentions. _ 

_They have turned over all remaining student-produced copies of the offensive pamphlets as well as the original documents which they say were designed and printed by an as-yet unnamed source outside of Hogwarts. I have enclosed these originals so they may be analysed and have every confidence you and your task force will be successful in identifying the original magical signature. _ 

_It may also be useful to note the students named Vincent Green and Spencer Willoughby, who you may remember for their attack on Anna Malfoy in October, as the ones responsible for meeting with their source outside of Hogwarts and bringing the original tracts into the school for copying and distribution. _ 

_I certainly hope these students' willingness to face their prejudice and misdeeds will help you bring an end to the violence that has destroyed so many lives and shrouded so many hearts with the darkness of intolerance. _ 

_Most sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ 

Harry read through the letter once more with a cagey smile. Finally, they'd received the break they needed on this case. He had his team dispatched to address the leads McGonagall suggested: tracing the signature on the parchment, and reviewing the statements of the boys who had eventually been sentenced to fines and extensive community service (despite Draco's strong-arm tactics, they'd been tried as juveniles—the Wizengamot considered the long-lasting effects of _Retributus_ a severe enough punishment). If necessary they'd bring the boys in for additional questioning, but for now his head ached and his thoughts swam around how he'd reconcile Ron and Hermione with his burgeoning relationship with the Malfoys.  

He and Ron had been at loggerheads many times before, but never over something that had the potential to _completely_ overwhelm their trust and respect for each other. Hermione...well, her mistaken belief in Draco's assumed rape and victimisation allowed for a modicum of compassion that might extend to understanding Harry's feelings, but he doubted it, especially once she learned the truth about Anna's birth and the Blood Rite adoption. It might as well have been Dark Arts, and Hermione was implacable when it came to their use. Harry sighed heavily; just thinking about the inevitable row made his suffering brain pound harder. The young Auror laid his head on his blotter feeling every second of his age—give or take a hundred years more.   

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Auror Potter." Natalie, the unit secretary, popped her head in the door. "Mer. Malfoy is here to see you, sir. Shall I show hir in?" 

Harry's head snapped up off his desk. _Urgh, bad move. Headache plus sudden movement makes for a bad combination. _Feeling a bit green, he nodded gingerly. "Yes, send hir in, Nat. Thank you. Oh, and arrange seating outside the door for Agent Thomas, would you?" 

A few minutes later Draco strode into Harry's office. Sie took one look at Harry's pallor and haggard stance and manhandled him back into his chair. Before the Auror quite knew what'd happened he found his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea that smelled faintly of the rose-scented potion in Draco's hands. 

"Drink up, Potter," the mage said softly in deference to Harry's tenacious headache. "I'm rather partial to these robes and you look more likely to vomit on them than manage conversation at the moment." Sie set the potion phial down and set hir nimble fingers to work tracing light circles over Harry's temples, the gentle motion belying the bite of hir snark. 

Lulled by the soothing rhythm, Harry relaxed. The tension eased, and by the time Draco had finished hir impromptu massage the potion had kicked in fully. Harry was a wobbly mass whose troubles were a now a long thought away. "S'at feels wonderful," Harry slurred as Draco eased him back onto the headrest. 

"Well," sie chuckled, "I've always had talented hands."  

Harry snickered lightly. "Tell that to the Snitch next time we play." He sat forward slowly and rolled his neck. "Maybe it'll reconsider letting you catch it." 

Draco scoffed and tapped the back of his head. "Prat. I'll ask you to kindly recall our last Seeker's match, Potter."  

"Besides," sie added with a soft smile, coming around to perch on the edge of Harry's desk, "I've already caught the most elusive and impressive prize." Sie leaned forward down and met Harry's lips. The touch was brief but bestowed both tenderness and a fierce possessiveness. Harry smiled against hir mouth and reached up to cup hir cheek, the claim acknowledged and reciprocated.  

"That you have," he grinned, pecking Draco's lips once more before dropping another quick kiss on hir pointed nose and sitting back fully. "Now what brings you into the Ministry? I thought you were staying home today." Harry stretched out his hand and stroked over Draco's long pale fingers as he spoke.  

Straightening hir back, the blond mage frowned as sie reached into hir robe pocket. Harry hissed as Draco withdrew a now-familiar fold of parchment. It looked like the same parchment favoured by the killer. 

"Another one?" 

Draco sighed with disgust and handed it over. "Mer. Redbank's death is on my head, and according to this it will get worse." 

Harry unfolded the letter and Draco ran hir finger over the most troubling passage: 

_Corrupter of innocents, destroyer of families, even those whose allegiance you do not claim are fouled by your influence. The world can only be cleansed when washed with your blood. As Abraham was called to sacrifice his beloved son, so will I bleed babes to purge your taint from all Wizard-kind. Thus will their souls be saved. No longer shall you lead them astray, false accursed shepherd_. 

Harry was pale and shaking with rage when he finally met the mage's grim visage. "Draco, this is—" 

"—disturbing, I know." The blond shook hir head. "It's absolutely mad. But we've been given another clue. Abraham's near-sacrifice of his son is related in a Muggle book, a holy text called _The Bible_." Sie spared Harry a questioning glance, to which Harry nodded his familiarity with the book in question. He was Muggle-raised, after all, and though the Dursleys had never been much on churchgoing, there were the occasional holidays and Sunday lessons for Dudley—meaning that Harry, who did Dudley's Sunday school homework, was passing knowledgeable about some Bible stories.  

Draco redirected hir attention to the parchment, tapping a finger over the passage. "By this I'd say the killer is someone who's had some exposure to Muggle Christian religion."   

Harry considered hir thoughtfully. "A Muggle-born?" 

Draco shook hir head. "No...dual-heritage, maybe. The key is _exposure_ to Christianity, not full knowledge. Whoever is doing this was not truly raised in the religion. There are too many mistakes and mixed references. In the story Abraham is asked to sacrifice his son, yes, but the child is saved. The Christian god viewed the father's willingness to abide by his command as proof of Abraham's complete faith and provided a lamb to be sacrificed instead. The Christian god does not allow the slaughter of the child, as the writer of the poison-pen suggests.  

"Per their dogma, the only blood sacrifice is made of the Christian god's son, a Jesus Christ, from whom the religion takes its name. Christians call him, among other things, the Lamb of God, as he was innocent of the crimes for which he stood accused; and as the son of a god they believe he had the power to redeem the sins of mankind.  

"The killer has merged the meanings of the stories and perhaps considers themselves as powerful as this Jesus Christ, or as faithful as Abraham." Draco huffed and shook hir head. "I don't know. I've studied Christianity and other Muggle religions superficially to familiarise myself with their tenets and mythology. I'm no theologian to provide an answer to this, Harry. Even if I were, I'd say someone capable of this kind of violence has perverted the teachings far beyond their intent." 

Harry pinched his nose under his glasses; tendrils of tension were slowly pushing their way forward, pooling behind his eyes and across his forehead. It seemed no matter what he did, today was going to be a headache kind of day. "I'll have my team consider this," he said tiredly. "Hermione's worked up a profile but it doesn't make mention of anything like this. Perhaps having a basic understanding of this nutter's possible motivation will help us protect you and other targets." 

Grey eyes went stormy with sadness and frustration. "Harry, I'm not willing to take that risk. I read this as a threat to the children close to me. Minerva's approved additional security and I've directed Paul to install secondary teams at Hogwarts, Heritage House, and the academy. He'll also be joining Soren as Anna's personal guard." 

The mage took a breath and fixed Harry with a determined look. The Auror raised his brows in question: that look said nothing good. "This needs to be over." Harry nodded and folded his hands. He could agree with that statement, but he wasn't feeling any better about where it was leading. "Yule is coming and none of us need this hanging over our heads. We know the killer wants me, and I think—" sie shot a tentative look at Harry's stark face from under hir lashes— "I think we should give them what they want."  

Harry blinked as the silence spread between them, slow and thick like treacle. He blinked again.  

"No." 

Draco raised a hand imploringly. "Wait, Harry, hear me out. I don't particularly relish the idea of setting myself out as bait, but there's plenty I can be doing at both Heritage House and Heritage Academy over the next little while in the name of Yule preparations if this idiot is watching me. This is the perfect opportunity. I'll be in contact with the children he also seems to want, and we can arrange for discreet security to ensure none of them are at risk. We create the illusion of a prize too rich to ignore: me and the children." 

"NO! Are you mad, Draco? I will not have you putting yourself in the line of fire to draw this psychopath out. Forget that you could be hurt, or killed. And gods know what Anna would do if that happened. A child from Heritage House or the academy could be taken hostage or injured or killed because someone's attention was misdirected for one second. It's too damn risky! 

"We're following the parchment leads right now and hopefully that'll give us something. Now we have the biblical reference angle to look into as well. There is absolutely no need to risk you!" Harry kicked back his chair and stood to grip the blond's slender shoulders. "I can't risk you, Draco. I won't!" 

Unhurriedly Draco shrugged Harry's hands off hir shoulders, and with near-otherworldly grace slid from his desk and crossed the small office to seat hirself in a worn leather club chair in the conversation corner next to the fireplace. Harry took in this performance aptly but was still surprised when Draco finally spoke. "I seem to recall, Potter," sie began, languidly crossing hir legs, "having already told you that I am not one to sit back and be coddled. Despite occasional displays to the contrary, I know you are neither lacking in mental faculties nor hearing, so I assume you do remember and recognise that our relationship does not grant you the right to swaddle me in cotton wool so to tuck me away from danger—real or imagined." Sie raised a pale blonde brow, hir voice dripping with the condescension Harry had so despised in their youth.  

_I suppose I deserved that._ Thoroughly chastened, Harry met hir fiercely glinting eyes and again scrubbed his hands through his hair. "It's not like I could get you to hold still long enough anyway," he grumbled, knowing any such attempt would probably end in the bollocking of his life.  

Harry blew out a hard breath. "All right, all right, I got it," he sighed, fingering the dark strands he'd pulled from his head and wincing as he counted their number. He held out the yanked hairs. "See? Worry is driving me bald, and it's entirely your fault. I hope you'll still fancy me when I'm wandering around sporting Kingsley's 'do." 

Draco snorted at Harry's attempt to lighten the mood, but the two shared a smile and some of the tension bled from the room. "I understand, Draco, I do," Harry said, coming from behind his desk to crouch at Draco's side. "I just...I wouldn't want _any_ civilian target to do as you're suggesting. But in a situation like what we're facing I would consider it," he grudgingly admitted, keeping his eyes on the subtle pattern woven into the triarii's trousers. "I'd hate it, but I'd consider it. And I have to do that here. I just—you understand _why_ I'm anxious about this, don't you?"  He carefully stroked down the knife-edge crease of the grey wool. "I couldn't handle—I wouldn't—I don't want anything to happen to you...Draco, I couldn't bear it." He hung his head, adding a whisper of his worry.  

Draco made a soft noncommittal sound and encouraged Harry's head down onto the armrest. "I suppose you feel now much as I will when Harry Potter, the Super Auror Extraordinaire, is called upon to respond to a dangerous situation." Sie gently scritched Harry's scalp, then used hir hold to tug his head up. "You have your duty, Harry, your responsibilities," sie said, hir grey eyes holding Harry's with firm compassion and understanding. "I will not try to change you or undermine your commitments, but neither should you devalue mine. I have a duty to Renaissance Foundation, to the triarii, and must do my part to stop the killings. Mer. Redbank wasn't affiliated with Renaissance in anyway as far as Mark and I can tell, Harry. If the killer can now find even those of us who are passing, then absolutely none of us are safe. I have to do something to stop this." 

Draco's loosened fingers slid through his hair as Harry nodded. "I'll take your proposal to my team. We'll wait and see how far the parchment analysis takes us, see if we can isolate the magical signature and run this bastard to ground first." Harry brought himself to his full height to stretch his legs. "If we don't have enough to hunt them down we'll likely implement your plan to flush him out, with you to bait the trap." He rolled his shoulders with a resigned sigh.  

The grim, accepting smile Draco wore as Harry first began to stretch became a wicked smirk as sie appraised his form. "Good," sie purred, pulling Harry forward over the chair. "I have plans for you this Yule, Mr. Potter," Draco whispered warm and wanting against Harry's lips. "And believe me, they've nothing to do with you chasing murderous psychotics or responding to late-night crime scenes." 

By now Harry had got quite used to Resonance and the sometimes lightning burn that sparked when it arched between him and Draco. It was not an unwelcome sensation, especially not at this moment. Harry drew himself fully into the chair, bracing his weight on his legs on either side of Draco's hips. He gingerly cupped the side of Draco's face, whispering a thumb over hir softened lips as he did. Energy flared and washed over them in a wave of sharp pleasure that Harry couldn't hope to describe. It wasn't precisely sexual or sensual; it stirred to life something deeper than both and made Harry ache for the time and privacy to explore it fully with both him and Draco naked and at their ease. Instead he made do with Draco's wordless delighted murmurs as they kissed, each touch a world of intimacy, every dip of his tongue that passed the pillowy lips overwhelming him with the need to taste more, _know_ more of hir. Shaking with the effort to not lose himself completely, knowing his office was not the place for them to give in to the draw, he stroked gently down Draco's torso. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down hir throat and nipped at the juncture between Draco's neck and shoulder, growling a bit, and he tugged the banded round edge of hir collarless robe aside.

Draco did not lie passively beneath him. The triarii's own hands were a flurry, gripping down Harry's back, stroking over the bunched muscles of his firm arse and up again to clench in Harry's messy dark hair. "Harry," sie groaned, feeling a momentary pang when Harry tore his mouth away to draw a quick breath, and could almost feel the last vestiges of hir reserve give way when he again covered hir lips with his own. This man, sie knew, was who sie wanted...needed, forever.

They were far gone in their passion when the door slammed open. "Harry! You need to call off Malfoy's dog here. The git barely let me through—" Fully registering the scene—the bunched clothing, reddened, kiss-swollen mouths, faces flushed with arousal (and embarrassment on Harry's part), glazed grey and green eyes—Ron's face rapidly lost all colour, leaving his freckles to stand out in stark relief. "Harry?" The strangled whine had barely passed his lips before the man in question was standing and straightening his navy robe.  

Harry made sure to position himself to shield the dazed and dishevelled triarii in the chair. "What is it, Ron?" 

"I don't know, _Harry,_" Ron ground out, the muscles in his jaw pulsing hard. "Why don't you tell me what the _fuck_ you think you're doing with Ferret-face here?" 

The fire's glare on his glasses almost hid the angry glint in Harry's eyes as he bore down on his friend. The slightly older man's greater height and weight made little difference when Harry shoved Ron back against the closed door. "How dare you come in here and insult hir like that? I _told_ you, Ron. I told you how I feel about Draco, and you have a nerve coming in here to show your arse anyway. What I do in _my_ office on _my_ time is none of your damn business." 

Harry stepped back with a deep breath. "I am not going to get into this with you here. We're both damn lucky Kingsley didn't insist on disciplinary reports in our personnel jackets for the incident this morning. I'm not about to test his generosity and I suggest you don't push it either.  

"Now, if you have something useful to tell me say it and get out before either of us does some damage we can't fix." 

Ron's lips thinned further, but he jerked his head in a curt nod. "The team's gathered in Staging Room 3," he bit out as evenly as he could. "The parchment analysis is done, and according to Hermione and Tonks it looks like we're nearly ready to douse the fire under this particular cauldron...sir." 

"Fine." Harry wrestled his annoyance into something manageable and waved the bristling ginger Auror toward the door. "Let them know I'll be there shortly." 

Harry stood ramrod straight until the door closed (a little too firmly) behind Ron, then slumped into the strong, slender arms that had wrapped around his waist. "I take it you and Weasley got into it once already today?" 

"A bit, yeah," Harry sighed, letting more of his weight rest against the body behind him. He closed his eyes briefly, relishing the novelty of having someone to bear _his_ weariness for a while. "Kingsley was showing John Davis' campaign manager around and ended things before it could get too ugly." 

Resting hir face between Harry's shoulders, Draco made a small humming sound and rubbed small circles on the Auror's firm stomach. "Ah yes, I remember Mer. Blackforge mentioned something about taking a tour. Besides the show of Gryffindorish diplomacy courtesy of you and Weasley, how did it go?" sie asked, the thick blue cloth slightly muffling hir voice but not hir sarcasm. 

"Well enough, I suppose." Harry shrugged.  He pulled himself gently from the embrace and turned in the circle of Draco's arms. "How involved with that are you?" 

The triarii shook hir head slightly, blond wisps that had come loose in their heated snogging session floating around hir face. "Not very. I've made some personal donations. I like John and support his vision for the Ministry." The corners of hir mouth turned up a little. "Despite popular consensus I've no interest in the kind of politics my father engaged, Harry."  Hir eyes took on a knowing gleam. "The Renaissance Party is truly a separate entity from Renaissance Foundation, despite the shared name. Even if I were interested in the kinds of backroom dealings and underhanded meddling Lucius was known for, Aubrey Blackforge would prove too formidable an opponent. Sie is scrupulously honest and handles all the Party dealings with an iron fist." 

"I thought as much," Harry answered, stepping fully from Draco's arms. "Doesn't hurt to ask, though." 

Draco folded hir arms over hir chest. "True." Sie freed a hand to scratch at hir nose as Harry shuffled the poison-pen letter into a folder and gathered up parchments from his desk. "Harry." Draco interrupted the thoughtful silence. "What we're building between us needs more than devotion...and lust." Sie blushed lightly with the thought of their earlier activity. "It needs trust, and with our history that will be hard won, but honesty from both of us will help with that. If you have questions, ask me. I may always have plots and schemes at work." Sie smirked. "I am a Slytherin, after all, but I hope there will be no secrets between us." 

Harry's hands stilled over the last of his papers. A look of intense affection and gratitude crossed his face as he smiled. "Draco—" 

The other smiled in return, inclining hir head. "I know, Harry." Sie drew a long breath as though sie needed to clear the soppiness away. "Now gather your things and run along to your meeting. Thomas will see me safely home." A small sigh signalled the return of the inscrutable business magnate and Harry nodded his acknowledgement. He would've liked to linger, stretching out the time he had with the mage and the tenderness they'd shared, but knew as well that Draco had limits. Sie was still learning to trust Harry with hir softer, more emotive side and letting down all those barriers sie'd built to protect hir vulnerabilities was something that would take time. Harry briefly squeezed hir hands as they parted, and put on his game face, ready to charge back into another long day.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-read this chapter and I thank them both. **Warning **the religious mentions continue in this segment and again, no offense is meant, hopefully none will be taken.

And again thanks so much for the reviews! They really make my day, and I love hearing from you so please do hit the link and share your thoughts.

* * *

**13.**

"All right, people, what've we got?" Harry charged through the door of Staging Room 3, immediately gaining his team's attention. They'd been gathered in clusters and pairs around the table or evidence board, but everyone quickly seated themselves once Harry took his position at the head of the table. He noted the furtive look that passed between his best friends, and Ron's clenched jaw, but dismissed both in favour of Tonks' anticipatory look. It was the expression of an Auror about to make a big arrest. "Tonks, what have you to say about the parchment analysis?"

"We've finally caught a break, Harry." She smiled proudly. "The parchment is custom-made exclusively for a small press called New Horizons. They mostly publish religious texts—"

Harry shot up in his seat. "Bibles?"

"Uh...yes." Tonks' eyebrows rose at Harry's eager appeal, but he waved her on. "—as well as prayer books and devotionals, all written by one Mary Martha Lazarus. The press runs out of a small shop in Hogsmeade, but it was locked up tight when Seamus went by earlier."

"Hours by appointment only, the sign says," Seamus added. "And there's a flat above the shop but no one was there either. All together s'a dingy little place. I don't reckon they get many visitors."

"No, I don't reckon they do." Harry's voice was thoughtful and grim. "Have we traced the magical signatures on the hate tracts to Mary Martha Lazarus, by any chance?"

This time it was Hermione who answered. "No, Harry. The signature traces back to an adult male, but not one on file with the Ministry. Whoever created those pamphlets didn't receive an Apparation license, has never been in trouble with the DMLE, and was most likely homeschooled since all magical learning institutions register their students' signatures.

"It may also mean that he's uncommonly powerful or proficient in wandless magic, as all wands are also registered," she added, worry-lines creasing her brow.

Hetty shook her head. "I doubt that; we would've registered greater residue at the scenes if we were dealing with an extraordinarily powerful wizard. It's more likely he's using an illegal homemade wand, or a family heirloom that was passed down before the wand registry was established. Besides, if he were so powerful he wouldn't have bothered recruiting ickle firsties to do his legwork.

"And speaking of the snot-nosed simpletons, Messers Green and Willoughby were very eager to help further our investigation." She shot the room a triumphant smile that would have sent wolves running. "Once they realised additional charges of obstruction could be brought against them, that is."

Harry chuckled darkly. "I don't suppose you advised them of the likelihood of being charged as adults this go-round, did you, Hetty?"

"I may have mentioned that," the dark-haired witch replied casually, "and that an additional charge would violate the terms of their probation."

"Hetty, that's coercion!" Hermione gasped.

The older woman shot her a rather unimpressed look. "They've confirmed the link between the hate tracts and our male suspect," she went on, ignoring Hermione's affronted huff. "Their contact is a Mr. Iscariot, who they met at the Three Broomsticks during the first Hogsmeade weekend.

"They were drawn to the idea of a new social order, with them at the top o' the heap of course. They also responded well to Iscariot treating them like adults: affirming their opinions and respecting their ideas. It never occurred to them that he was setting them up as pawns to do his dirty work in spreading hate."

"That kind of validation can be very effective in recruiting disaffected youths, Hetty," Hermione said, and added, "particularly young males who seek a collective identity and sense of belonging but still wish to be viewed as powerful and unique. These messages are geared to convince the adolescents that the establishment of a new order is a higher calling. It happens all the time with hate groups in the Muggle world that target teens for membership."

"Idiots," Hetty snorted, "the lot of them. Blinded by their own self-importance."

"Well, whatever their motivation we know this Iscariot's involved and we need to bring him in." Harry frowned; the name was familiar. He was certain he'd heard it before, but where? He threw it out to the team. "Is anyone familiar with an Iscariot family?"

Seamus shook his head. "Not any Wizarding family. I'd say it's an alias. I was raised Catholic, you know—a type of Christianity," he explained for the task force members who had limited experience with Muggle religion. "Judas Iscariot was one of the twelve disciples chosen by Jesus Christ. An' depending on your view of things, he was either the most devoted disciple, delivering the Lord to His destiny despite knowing the torment Christ would suffer, or the most pitiful excuse for a friend who betrayed the Son of God's life for thirty pieces of silver—a bit more than three thousand Galleons***** now."

Harry drummed his fingers over the poison-pen Draco had received that morning, as he fit his vague memories of Sunday lessons with Draco's conjecture and what they'd learned through the investigation; it was coming together now. "Given what we know about New Horizon, I'd say there's definitely a connection with Iscariot, then. It may be that we're looking for one or several people but it's likely, considering the evidence, that it's one obsessive, delusional wizard who thinks he's answering some higher calling to purge the world of the impure, or some such rot." Harry flicked his wand and the poison-pen flew up to the evidence board and was enlarged for everyone to see clearly. He highlighted the most directly threatening portion and shared with his team the assumptions Draco had made earlier.

"With what you said, Seamus, it makes sense." Harry nodded as, aloud, he cobbled together his theory. "I think Iscariot is acting alone. He's the author of the poison-pens and the killer. He sees himself as the most devout servant, the one who has to make the hard sacrifice and risks the world hating him because ordinary people can't understand the kind of faith needed to deliver an innocent to death, just like Abraham did. Only God stayed Abraham's hand. Judas had to go through with his act of betrayal because Jesus asked it of him, even though it was the most painful thing he'd ever done and he later hanged himself from the shame of it."

"Cor, Harry, that's...twisted," Tonks breathed, wide-eyed with shock.

"Well, for now it's conjecture," Harry admitted. "But it's as good a working theory as any we've come up with so far, and it fits what we do know. We need to find our Mr. Iscariot, which means a raid on New Horizon because it looks like that's where we'll find him and most of our answers."

"We need to act now, Harry," Seamus spoke up. "I've read about obsessive faith killers. Iscariot, or whatever his real name is, will likely keep on until he's fulfilled his mission. We need to stop him."

"And we will," Tonks said, her discomfort replaced by determination. "We're going in tonight, yeah, Harry?"

He nodded and the team got to work planning for the raid and arrest. Harry set Hermione the task of assessing Mary Martha Lazarus' writings, hoping they would provide greater insight into the mind of their suspect. She'd also search birth records to try and determine Iscariot's true identity.

They worked for the next hour on entry plans and sent Ron to do reconnaissance in Hogsmeade. He set off a ward-eater, a device only available to Aurors that would consume the magic of wards on nearly any structure while projecting a tactile illusion that would mimic the look and feel of the dismantled protections. Ron also used a Signatus probe to map the building's structural features so the team could complete their planning with a three-dimensional projection. There was still no sign of their suspect when he returned to report. They agreed that was worrisome, but it was likely someone would return to the building in the evening. The raid was scheduled for eleven o'clock.

"Not to throw a wet rug over anything, but what's our backup plan if the raid doesn't go as we hope?" Seamus asked once the tactical strategy was laid out.

Harry looked up from their breach model and sighed. "I have discussed with Draco Malfoy the possibility of setting a trap for the killer. We know he's hyper-focussed on Mer. Malfoy as a target, and based on the last letter it's likely we could set up another plan to apprehend him using Malfoy as bait." He ignored Ron's snort of disbelief and muttered comment about Draco's cowardice to scrub his eyes under his glasses. "I'm hoping it won't come to that. I don't want to have to put any civilian, but especially one under our protection, in such a potentially dangerous position. We have a good plan here." Harry waved a hand at the 3-D breach model. "And if all goes in our favour we may be able to end this tonight." As task force leader Harry decided he'd detail the plan to use Draco only if things went badly. It would only clutter up his team's minds and divert their attention from tonight's mission otherwise. For now he was satisfied that they'd done good work and were closer than ever to ending this nightmare.

Harry dismissed everyone to get some rest. They'd reconvene at nine to finalise the arrangements and coordinate with the additional Aurors participating in the capture. He still needed to inform Kingsley of the plan and retrieve a warrant, as well as brief the other Aurors who'd join the task force for this mission. Glancing up at the expectant faces of his best friends, Harry realised there was one additional thing he needed to do.

Once the room cleared he stood and faced the two waiting by the door. "Well, let's have it."

Hermione gnawed her bottom lip, her arms too full of books and parchments to twirl the ends of her hair as she usually did when nervous or upset.

_All right, looks like I'll have to start this one,_ Harry decided when the silence had stretched on too long. He braced his arms and leaned back on the table, feigning a casualness he hoped would keep the confrontation on a relatively even keel. "Do you know what Resonance is, Hermione?"

"A supposed bond-like reaction which occurs between two people of highly compatible and complimentary soul and manifested magic," she answered automatically, bobbling her head along with the memorised lines. "But it's a myth, Harry. It doesn't really happen. I don't 'resonate' with Ron, for example. We're just two people who love each other very much and work together, but there's no mystical connection like that.

"Resonance is another example of pureblood hegemonic practice used to maintain the status quo; in this case it's used to justify forcing young wizards and witches into arranged marriages!"

Harry turned his eyes on Ron, not having missed the other man's brief cringe when Hermione matter-of-factly denied the existence of Resonance between her and her husband. "What do you think, Ron?" he asked softly. "Do you think it's just a myth? What would your mum say if we asked her?"

The tall ginger frowned. "She'd say it's a miracle of magic. One of the great mysteries and a blessing for those who have it— 's what she used to tell us, anyway, when she talked about how she and Dad got together. But what does that have to do with anything, Harry?" He asked mulishly. His tone was sharper and more defensive than it needed to be, and Harry knew that Hermione's need to qualify and quantify everything had hurt Ron more deeply than she could have understood. But that was a concern for another time.

"I have Resonance with Draco Malfoy."

"Impossible!" Ron roared at Harry's simple statement. "You expect us to believe you have _Resonance_ with that slimy little snake?" He shook his head. "The git's dosed you, Harry; that's the only possible explanation. Resonance—" He looked sadly at his wife a moment. "It's real, and it only happens between people who are or can fall in love and mean it. Resonance is lasting and honest and _natural_—that ferret _freak_ doesn't have an honest bone in his twisted body." Ron's snort was a wet, ugly sound. "Having a kink for Malfoy's mixed bag isn't Resonance, Harry."

Harry lunged off the table and was halfway through a re-enactment of their morning scuffle before he reined himself in. As Ron shuffled backward, Harry clenched his fists at his sides and focussed on the feel of each of his nails biting tiny crescents into his palms. _Ron is my best mate. I _will not_ break his fucking jaw into little tiny pieces, no matter how satisfying it might be right now._ He closed his eyes and kept Kingsley's disapproving look firmly in the forefront of his mind while concentrating on taking deep, even breaths until the urge to shut Ron's mouth for good had—mostly—passed. Opening his eyes slowly, Harry exhaled.

"I'd have to agree with your mum, Ron," he finally managed in a passably reasonable-sounding voice. "Resonance is a miracle. And true. And I definitely consider myself blessed. I am in love with Draco," Harry said firmly, shifting his gaze between his friends, willing them to truly understand. "_I am in love with Draco Malfoy_. I have not been dosed." He held Ron's bright blue eyes. "I am not delusional or compensating for misplaced guilt," he continued, meeting Hermione's disbelieving chocolate stare. "I am in love with hir. Sie is lovely, fun, smart, cunning, strong, and yes, sexy as hell. Sie is everything I'd want in a partner if I could have one made to order. What we have is amazing, beautiful, and lasting." Harry took another small step forward and fixed his first friend with a glare so cold it burned. "And if you _ever_ call hir a freak again...best mate or no, I will put you down so hard it'll be a year before you even _think_ about getting up." Harry stalked from the room, fuming. He was really counting on the day getting better; so far it'd been mostly shite.

* * *

Harry was rapidly losing hope for better as the time approached for the task force to leave for Hogsmeade. Siobhan Bravura was one of the Aurors assigned to assist in the breach and extraction. She was bold, brash, fearless, and held grudges like nobody's business. It didn't help matters that she was brassed off about not being selected for the task force; actually she was furious about not being chosen to _lead_ the task force. She wanted full disclosure on every theory pertinent to the Auror Corps' interest in the target, questioned every formation the task force initially proposed, and encouraged dissension among the Aurors who'd been brought in to assist with the capture.

By ten o'clock Harry had had enough. "Look, Bravura, we've been through this enough times already. Either you're in or you're out. This is _not_ your case. Our interest in Iscariot is _none of your business_. You're here to help us bring him in. End. Of. Story. We do not have time to feed your ego or wipe your arse. You're not some fresh-faced greenwood who can't tell which end is up in a fight and we could use you, but I'm not putting up with this; there are other capable Aurors in this department. That goes for the lot of you! We work together; we come home. This petty crap is what gets good Aurors killed in the field. And no one's dying on my watch. So RIGHT NOW either you stow it and get with the program, or there's the door and I find someone who knows how to work with a team and can take orders. DOES EVERYONE UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Kudos, Harry; well done," Hetty whispered from beside him as the room snapped to attention and every Auror moved to his or her assigned group and reviewed the entry plan. Bravura shot him a quick glare but kept her mouth shut and turned her attention to the rest of the front-guard team.

Everyone took a break at half-ten, and Harry decided to make a quick run to his office to bid Draco goodnight. It was the action of a besotted romantic, but Harry was through with questioning his choices when it came to his new relationship. He felt what he felt and he was enjoying it. If speaking to Draco briefly before the mission would make him feel better, then so be it. They kept the AudioFloo exchange short and Harry promised to Floo hir again once their suspect was in custody. He warned Draco it would likely be late, as the processing and interview would take a while. The magnate scoffed and told Harry not to be imbecilic. Harry knew they'd come a long way when he actually thought that being insulted was rather endearing. He tapped off his AFR, ending the exchange before he could sink to further depths of soppy love-struckedness and headed back to Staging Room 3.

En route he met Hetty, who was sipping her customary cup of coffee and scanning the cover of the _Evening Prophet_. They were nearly to the door when her mug slipped from her hands in a flurry of curses. Harry was impressed; he'd never have thought to put a flobberworm in that context before. "So whose blood are the sharks after now?" Harry asked, referring to the _Prophet_'s cutthroat editors.

"It's not the sharks you should worry about now, Harry," Hetty snarled. The anger in her magic was white-hot and snapped around her as she brushed past him, her ambient magic so out of control it nearly blasted the doors from their hinges.

"BRAVURA!" The task-force witch bellowed for the brash Auror and cut a swath through everyone else to reach her. "You pathetic, self-serving glory hound! Happy now?" She grabbed the taller woman by the collar and dragged her over to the evidence board. Hetty held Siobhan's face to the gory enlarged photo of Leslie Redbank's mutilated body. "Was sie worth it? Or hir?" She flipped to the images taken of Cameron Davis' autopsy. "You stupid bitch. You've jeopardised everything!" She tossed the other woman aside with disgust as the collective force stared. "Sir," she panted, turning to Harry. "It's over. Iscariot's long gone by now. Bravura's tipped him off."

Green eyes widened in disbelief, but Harry didn't miss a beat, stepping firmly into his role and reminding everyone of his authority. "Explain yourself, Pendleton. Bravura, sit," Harry snapped at the woman crouching to stand.

Hetty pointed at the _Evening Prophet_ she'd dropped on the conference table. "Cover story's about the student initiatives at Hogwarts and how they were inspired by both your press conference and as a response to the expulsion and _subsequent arrest_ of several students responsible for hate propaganda and an attack on a fellow student. 'Auror Siobhan Bravura, a respected and well-placed source in the Ministry's Auror Corps,'" Hetty sneered at her colleague, "'is quoted as "working diligently to reform the delinquent youngsters."'" The diminutive witch shook her head. "She released their names, Harry. Iscariot takes one look at that and he's going to know we're looking for him based on the boys' official statements."

_Well, fuck. There goes the whole damn day._

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse

**Note:**

*****30 pieces of silver adjusted to 2008 exchange rates = approx. USD $12-15,000. 3,000 Galleons = USD $15,000 = GBP £8,000. Just for the perpetually curious who like me have a jones for random trivia ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **The wonderful and talented Mamacita-san and refuz2luz beta-read this chapter and I thank them both. **Warning **again the religious mentions continue in this segment; no offense is meant, hopefully none will be taken. Oh and more pet names (I credit Candy Apple for this indulgence)!

And wow so many reviews for the last chapter thank you so very much!

* * *

**14.**

In the end they decided to go forward with the raid. There was a chance, albeit slim, that Iscariot hadn't read the _Evening Prophet_ and was unaware of how close the Aurors were to closing in on him. And for once Harry had no compunctions about reining in Ron's temper; it was nice to have the man's ire directed at someone else for a change. After the screaming row the hot-headed Auror got into with Bravura, Harry assigned Ron to escort the disgraced Auror to Kingsley. He'd let his superior deal with questioning her motives and unlikely but possible involvement with the suspect; either she was incredibly arrogant and actually believed she was helping matters by letting things slip to the _Prophet_ or she was incredibly stupid. Whichever way it went, Harry had neither the time nor inclination to deal with it and the veritable mountain of paperwork that would accompany disciplinary action (and the beating he was likely to give her if left alone with the woman for more than a minute).

And...if Bravura wound up with a bruise or two courtesy of the ginger firestorm pissed at having his recon work made nearly worthless, well...so be it.

The subdued group of Aurors made their way to Hogsmeade and executed the entry plan as they'd discussed, but to no one's surprise New Horizons and the small flat above the shop were abandoned. Tonks slammed down the copy of the _Evening Prophet_ they found on the kitchen table as they secured the scene. "Damn it! Hetty nailed it. He must've seen the article and assumed the boys told about him. He's scarpered off, no doubt about it!" Her hair turned a riotous red as she fumed, stomping through the small space in frustration as team members gathered evidence of Iscariot's business. Tonks had turned toward the stairwell to return to the ground floor's press room when she tripped on a loose board and slammed her shoulder into the wall.

"Ow! Damn, I—" Tonks gaped, rubbing her sore shoulder as a secret panel was revealed. "Well, lookit there. Cor." Carefully she pulled the panel away, handing it off to a waiting team member. Harry and Hetty, the only original task force members working the upstairs, crowded in behind Tonks as a small room was revealed. "Merlin," Tonks swore as she cast an illumination spell and the room's contents were exposed to the Aurors.

One wall of the enclosed space was covered with defaced and mutilated pictures of Draco Malfoy. It was incredibly disturbing to watch Draco's image try to peer around the vicious slashes that cut through hir face and body in most of the photographs. Some others were frowning and futilely trying to wipe the smears of ink and other marks off of their pictures' faces; and most unnerving of all, there were several "picture Dracos" waving their arms about trying to locate their cut-out heads. "Well, we know for sure that Malfoy is a target and that Iscariot has been following hir for months," Hetty said quietly. "Look, even the protection detail didn't discourage him." She pointed to several shots taken with Harry, Nick Thomas, or another Anderson agent in the frame. "This bloke's truly obsessed."

"Yeah, and look here." Tonks pointed to the centre wall. It too was covered in pictures, but these were mostly religious images, prayer cards and reliefs of the Madonna. A small altar was set at the base of the wall, its centrepiece a replica of the _Pieta_*****. White votive candles were placed around the statuette. Directly above, a large Muggle-style portrait of a stern-faced woman in what looked to be a nineteenth-century nun's habit frowned at the visitors, her hard, squinting eyes nearly glowing with malevolence. Harry wasn't sure the painting was truly Muggle-style at all. The woman's presence was certainly imposing and seemed very tangible at that moment.

A pale flash in the corner of his eye took his attention from the painting. A low candle sputtered beside a picture of Harry, Draco, and Anna on the Hogwarts grounds during a weekend visit. Draco was unrecognizable, but Anna waved at him from the frame. Even as a cold fist clenched around Harry's heart, his blood was boiling. This madman was going after Draco, after _Anna_. Harry would not let him succeed. He sneered at the disapproving woman, whose screwed-up face reminded him too much of his Aunt Petunia, and ordered the entire room catalogued and transported to the Ministry for examination.

He stepped away from the closet and its horrors to take a deep breath. _Just a little longer_, Harry consoled himself, then he could go home and reassure himself that Draco was safe and whole. The task force would have to convene in the morning to review tonight's seizures and discuss the plan to trap Iscariot using Draco as bait. But that was long hours away. At this moment Harry needed the triarii's solid weight in his arms, and to know that for a little while he could protect hir from the monsters in the night.

* * *

The insistent chirping in his ear didn't quite manage to rouse Harry from the catnap he was taking at his desk. He hadn't actually planned to fall asleep, but that he had was evidenced by the puddle of drool spreading over the latest evidence report and the skewed earpiece that was now angled out from his temple like a strange antennae. Mumbling incoherently, he continued to fuss at the annoying sound by his ear, only partly conscious. "Shud't," he growled, finally succeeding in silencing the bothersome chime. Of course that also meant he'd accepted the call coming in over his AFR.

"I am most displeased, Harry Potter," a soft tenor drawled.

Harry frowned; that wasn't how Draco usually sounded in his dreams. The triarii's cultured tones were never shaded with annoyance or irritation then. Actually, they'd usually devolved into lusty sighs and guttural moans by this point in his dreaming. Harry was obviously not doing his job well enough if the blond was still capable of coherent sentences, let alone that petulant tone. He'd have to fix that. Maybe if he sucked on Draco's toes? He was drifting deeper into sleep to do just that when once again he was sharply interrupted.

"Harry James Potter, don't you dare ignore me when I'm speaking to you!"

Harry's eyes snapped open—no toes in sight. _Damn._ He swiped his hand over his face, grimacing at the wetness that was now smeared across his cheek. " 'M not ignoring you." He yawned and made an attempt at setting himself to rights, or at least adjusting his glasses. "Sorry." He yawned again and stretched, vertebrae popping as he pulled himself up. "Sorry, love. I must've fallen asleep." He flicked his wand at the tea service set on the small credenza beside his desk.

Draco huffed a discontented sigh. "You should've been home hours ago; barring that you could've at least called to tell me you were all right. I've been worried si—worried, you know?"

Harry smiled at hir near slip and poured himself a steaming cup. "I know, and I meant to; things went a bit mad around here." He gratefully drew the aroma of brisk tea into his lungs. "The raid failed," he said, scrubbing a hand through the inky, tangled mess atop his head. "The suspect was tipped off and long gone by the time we went in."

"I thought as much," Draco said after a considered pause. "I saw the _Prophet_. Your Auror Bravura sounds nearly as competent as the bumbling simpletons first assigned to investigate the murders."

Harry grimaced; Bravura _was_ in good company with Wainright and Ricks.

"I take it the raid wasn't a complete loss, though, or you would've been home," Draco continued. That the mage considered hir cottage as Harry's home warmed him, just as hir confidence in the assumption that Harry would want to be with hir, given the choice, soothed.

"I would have," Harry answered, lowering his voice. "I missed you." He grinned at the small smile he knew was now sitting in the silence between them. "I very much wanted to be home," he added, briefly recalling his imagined flirtation with the triarii's toes. _When this is all over...._

"Mmm, as it should be. Now, tell me what you've uncovered that was so momentous it couldn't wait for you to get some decent sleep.

"And I assume you haven't written Anna yet, so please do so before it gets much later. You know how she gets."

Harry nodded and pulled a clean sheet from his top drawer. He'd gotten in the habit of adding a few lines to Draco's nightly letters, or sending his own when he'd been apart from hir. The young girl had come to depend on hearing from him every day, and worried horribly about him just as she did her vamar. The first (and last) time Harry had forgotten, a frantic Madame Pomfrey had Floo-called from the Infirmary where Anna had worked herself into an hysterical fit, convinced the Auror had been gravely injured. She was refusing a Calming Draught and not even her vamar had been able to quiet her. Irate, Draco had met Harry at the school's gates to escort him to the distraught girl's bedside so she could see for herself that Harry was in one piece. Despite being subjected to a tirade on inconsiderate, forgetful sods, Harry counted that day as a pretty good one; he'd had an Anna-hug, after all.

For now, though, Harry scrawled a greeting at the top of the page and laid the parchment aside. He'd take a few minutes and devote them solely to Anna a little later. Iscariot would taint her life no further than he already had if Harry had his say, not even in this slight way. The man occupied too many of his thoughts as it was; Anna deserved more than the dregs of his attention.

"We did find quite a lot there," Harry answered tiredly, finally getting to Draco's initial question. "This man...he's insane, Draco. Completely gone." Harry paused, not wanting to share the rest despite knowing he had to; Draco needed to know it all if sie was to keep hirself safe. "And what's worse, he's absolutely fixated on you, moreso than we initially thought." Harry tapped his fingers against the blotter. "You go nowhere with fewer than three guards. Understand?" The command was strained.

Draco snorted. "So says the irrepressible Auror Potter, or my overprotective lover Harry?"

"This is no joke," Harry growled. "Need I remind you that he's already slain nine people, Draco? The man is mental and dangerous. This is no time to be flippant about taking unnecessary risks!"

Harry knew by the long silence that Draco had backed down. The triarii wouldn't apologise, he knew that too, but at least sie'd be taking things seriously.

Hir near-imperceptible sigh was acquiescence enough. "Fine, then. I'll inform Paul and have Mark adjust my schedule. We'll relocate to my office at Heritage House under the premise of Yule preparations as you and I discussed. Security has already been tightened there.

"I take it you'll want Paul in attendance for the planning session on how to best flush this Iscariot out?"

Harry gritted his teeth. He was regretting, just a little, pushing Draco toward being more serious; he _really_ didn't want to use his lover as bait, and if he were honest, he didn't want _Paul_ hanging about either. "I know you don't like it, Harry." Draco's understanding and concern caressed his ear, soothing his lingering fears and unknowingly dealing a sharp blow to the last hints of his irrational jealousy. "But you've said it yourself—he's fixated on me. We might as well use his obsession to our advantage and prime the hunting grounds. Better that than for me to continue on as I have done, just waiting for him to make his move. And as long as he's concerning himself with my movements he's not out stalking and killing anyone else."

Harry sighed. "You're right, I don't like it. I hate it."

"We'll be there at nine," Draco said, ignoring Harry's pout. "That gives you a bit of time to cast a cleaning charm or two and get yourself presentable."

"It'll just be the task force, Anderson's people, and you, Draco." Harry rolled his eyes. He'd yet to hear a reason for primping, but the smirk was audible in Draco's reply.

"Yes, me...all the more reason for you to look your best, Potter."

Harry laughed then, delighted. "True enough. All right, sweetheart, it's short notice but I'll see what I can do. Bye."

"Au revoir, Potter—wait, did you just call me _sweetheart?_"

Harry was still laughing when he ended the call.

* * *

The task force had already reviewed the reports of everything seized during the raid and Hermione was sharing the findings of her assessment of Mary Martha Lazarus' writings and a journal found in the flat when Draco and four Anderson agents, including Paul and Nick Thomas, entered the staging room. Draco and Paul took their seats silently as the other agents literally faded into the background.

Hermione paused, but smoothly took up again after a quick peek at her notes. "From this we can conclude that Mary Martha Lazarus and Judas Iscariot are assumed names. Mary Martha named herself after three of Jesus Christ's followers, siblings, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus of Bethany. Their faith was so great that Jesus is said to have raised Lazarus from the dead. It's actually a very interesting account, and there's some speculation amongst Wizarding historians that this might be evidence that Jesus Christ was actually a wizard—"

Tonks cleared her throat loudly over the rest of Hermione's tangent, causing the younger woman to blush. "Yes, well, it's fitting she adopted a new name reflecting resurrection, as her writings show that she considered her conversion to Christianity the death of her former self and devoted her life to her interpretation of Christian tenets.

"Her writings are fanatical and she was obsessively strict in following her espoused doctrines. She also advocates deprivation and corporeal punishment as key tools in maintaining spiritual purity, which may explain the Spartan condition of the flat as well as some of the more...questionable implements recovered." Hermione pointed to the array of crude floggers and bondage equipment laid out on an evidence table.

"Some writings make reference to two children: 'Judas, the betrayer' and an 'Anne,' both named for biblical figures. There may have been a third child, Magdalene, or Mary Martha may have changed the way she referred to Anne. It's unclear, but the passage 'she who was God's favoured grace has fallen to the depravity of whoredom' makes the latter more likely since Anne means grace, or favour. I think Anne did something that Mary Martha found so unforgivable it warranted changing her name to that of the Bible's best-known courtesan."

"Are we looking for three people now, Hermione?" Tonks interrupted, her brow furrowing with concern.

The bushy-haired witch shook her head. "Mary Martha stops mentioning Anne Magdalene after a while; she probably died. And Mary Martha is dead too; at least there's an entry in Judas Iscariot's journal that reads, 'I buried my sainted mother today. May God grant her peace and may her lessons keep me on the path of the Righteous—if only I've the strength. I pray God will give me strength to do as I must.'" She shuddered as she finished Iscariot's eerie plea.

"Judas Iscariot is clearly unhinged. Maybe Anne Magdalene's death was the catalyst for his killing spree, or Mary Martha's was, but I'd say Hetty was right in thinking he was homeschooled and is using a handmade wand. Mary Martha wouldn't have wanted her children exposed to the supposed corruption of the outside world."

"Where did the children come from? Do we know whether they were really Mary Martha's?" Hetty asked.

"We don't know." Hermione scrunched her nose; she hated not having all the answers. "I doubt they were hers, considering the negative view she had of sex. Even within marriage and solely for the purpose of procreation she thought sex a base and sinful act. But I've gone through sixty years of records and there are no matching child adoptions or abductions."

"Do we know why Iscariot targets triarii?" Harry certainly wouldn't want this Mary Martha around any child of his; and if Iscariot had been kidnapped, the extremism he'd been raised with might explain his twisted psyche. But right now what they needed to know was how his background might help catch him.

"Not really." Hermione grimaced. "Mary Martha was preoccupied with eliminating anything she considered sinful, unnatural, or perverse from her life. It stands to reason she would've considered triarii abominations and taught Judas to share that view." She shrugged. "Maybe the growing public presence of triarii prompted him to act on his hatred."

Draco shook hir head. "No," sie interrupted, gaining everyone's attention. "This is about Anne Magdalene. He's redeeming hir, or acting in hir memory, more like. I'd stake everything I own on this." Sie slapped hir hand down on the table. "Anne Magdalene was triarii. That's why he's targeting us. It makes sense. I'm quite familiar with the rhetoric by now. There are those who believe we who manifest Triarius are unnatural, abominations, insatiable sex demons that inspire perverted lusts in both men and women. Anne Magdalene manifested and either Mary Martha or Iscariot felt sie had to die. From the sound of it, Mary Martha probably ordered Iscariot to kill hir. And after such an act of faith and sacrifice—"

"—like Abraham," Harry added lowly as he made the connection to the poison-pen.

Draco nodded firmly. "Exactly like in his mind, only his hand was not stayed by his god. He had to go through with murdering someone he loved, and after that little could be worse than watching someone like me flaunt the same 'unnaturalness' and encouraging others to take pride in the 'sin' of our difference.

"My work to restore the Wizarding world's acceptance of triarii and other traditions must seem a direct affront. To him my every utterance is blasphemous, and that so much of what I do involves children—"

"Corrupter of innocents, destroyer of families," Harry quoted. "He sees you as tearing at the foundations of society."

"Kill me, kill the message." Draco nodded grimly.

"But why go after anyone else, then? He's killed nine people; why would he do that if he only wants you?" Seamus asked bitterly, and Harry shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the undertone; it was too like placing the blame for the deaths on Draco.

"Because it's not enough to stop the spread of the disease, Finnegan," Hetty answered. "You have to treat the victims as well. That's what he thinks he's doing. The body is only a vessel, meaningless as compared to the soul. If Iscariot believes Anne Magdalene's soul was saved through the death of hir body, then in slaying triarii he's actually doing his mother's work and his god's will."

"And using the _Interanea_ curse to literally cut out the perversion," Ron concluded, his face tinged green, but his blue eyes were fixed on the still photograph of Leslie Redbank's mutilated body, the pulpy mass of hir intestines spilling out onto the ground beneath hir.

"So we think we know why," Harry said quietly as his sombre teammates took in all they'd pieced together. "Now, how do we stop him?"

"You stick to the plan and use Draco to lure him out," Paul cut in. "If you're right about what motivates him, then Draco spending more time around kids will infuriate him and _that's_ how you want him—angry, off-kilter. I've handled a lot of stalker cases, and basically that's what this is; you make this nut-job mad enough and he'll make a mistake big enough to get himself caught."

"Well, maybe that's how you do things in the States—" Hermione turned up her nose at the American agent— "but _we're_ not in the habit of exposing children to greater danger just to lure a criminal."

"Oh no?" Draco scoffed "And what, pray tell, was the purpose of keeping Hogwarts open during the Chamber of Secrets fiasco but to lure the Heir of Slytherin into revealing himself by providing plenty of possible victims?" The mage snorted and tossed the weave of hir long braid over hir velvet-clad shoulder. "Collateral damage was an acceptable risk in the service of the _greater good_ throughout Dumbledore's entire tenure." That sie did not raise hir voice at all made the words that much more scathing.

Harry closed his eyes. This was the viper; the Draco of his youth who always aimed the strike at the soft underbelly of hir opponents. Sie had matured, yes, but sie still struck fast, hard, and true. Each of them cherished their memories of Dumbledore, the Gryffindors most of all. And the sneering Slytherin had no compunction about shattering their dearly-held illusions and exposing the beloved idyll for coercive opportunism. Harry risked opening his eyes and braved the diamond-hard glare. _Not like this, please, Draco. Not now...._

Imploring green met stormy grey...and was granted a reprieve. As easily as sie wielded sarcasm and keen observation as weapons, so could Draco use affectation as part of hir arsenal. Harry sighed as his lover eased back into hir seat and twirled a dismissive hand as though banishing hir last words, though not their sting. "Since _I_ am the bait for this trap," the standoffish aristocrat drawled, "it's important that Iscariot see me around the children. However, the visibility of the security personnel at such times will serve as enough of a deterrent. He might be angry—we will in fact count on his rising ire—but he won't make an attempt until he thinks I'm alone. He won't risk interference from witnesses, which is likely the reason Redbank was killed so far from Hogwarts, despite there being a sizeable triarii presence to lure him to the school that day.

"I will provide ample opportunity for him to strike—walks on the grounds during class and mealtimes, for example. I'll establish a regular schedule over the next few days and convince him I'm often alone and unprotected. He'll likely believe I've lowered my guard because of the wards surrounding the orphanage and school."

"But we can't just have you walking around devil-may-care, Malfoy. We want him to _think_ he can take you, not actually do it." Seamus added the last grudgingly. Draco had successfully redirected the Gryffindors' suspicion and anger to hirself, rather than their memories. Seamus was only articulating the backlash of resentment.

"That, Finnegan, is why my guards and you Aurors concerned with protecting my lovely self will be Disillusioned."

"We can set periphery alarm wards as well. We've identified Iscariot's magical signature and I doubt he's familiar with Signatus technology," Hetty added.

Draco slowly nodded hir approval. "Very good, Auror Pendleton. Between us we have the resources to keep the children, and myself of course, perfectly safe."

* * *

"Sie's damn good at that," Hetty said later, as Harry scratched out the protection rota in his office.

"Good at what?" he asked, casting a look at the door, which Hetty promptly shut.

"Good at redirecting people's attention. The room was about to explode when sie criticised Dumbledore, but sie managed to flip it so it became the expected snide commentary from the pure-blood snob. They could dismiss it that way if they wanted to, but the barb was in so the options were either to yank it and hurt, be left with a scar you could blame on something you had reason to distrust and dislike, or ease it out, examine it, figure it out for yourself—and though it stung, you'd heal cleaner."

Harry steepled his fingers and folded them over. "Well spotted, Auror Pendleton," he smirked.

"I haven't come this far in the Auror Corps on my looks Potter." She snickered and plopped herself into the chair beside his desk. "Honestly, sie impressed me, Harry; sie would make a fine Auror if sie didn't spend all hir time reorganising the Wizarding world and spending Seamus' pay. You could certainly do worse for yourself."

Harry ducked his head. "Thanks. You're one of the few who thinks that."

"Eh, anyone sharp enough to catch on to that little bait-and-switch sie pulled in the staging room should see sie's a good match for you. Clever, quick on hir feet, thoughtful—don't think I didn't notice you were the one to ask for the diversion. Sie's a fine mage, Harry. Now let's you and me talk about how we're going to keep hir alive through this whole mess."

A week later when Draco disappeared from the grounds of Heritage House, Harry had never been so glad for Hetty's foresight.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse

*** **The Pieta (there are several actually but the one I have in mind is Michaelangelo's) is a sculpture that depicts Jesus, post-crucifixion cradled in the lap of Mary, his mother. See it here (reverse the slashes) http:\\.info\pictures\art\michelangelo\michelangelo_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **This chapter _does_ continue from the last, but _does not_ resolve the cliff-hanger, don't worry you'll know how and why Draco disappears soon enough, just consider this an interlude in the week that follows that last meeting. Again my thanks to the wonderful and talented Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading. **Warning: **This chapter is one whose contents earn this story its M rating. If you are not interested in reading such content please skip the very last segment.

And I am just overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter. Thank you all so very much!

Last note: The cercis is also known as the Judas tree because it's supposedly the kind of tree Judas hung himself from.

* * *

**15.**

Now that they knew Judas Iscariot was out there and had accessed his magical signature, the Aurors, especially Harry, were both amazed and dismayed at how frequently their Signatuses pinged his presence around Heritage House. Two days into Operation Cercis (a morbid reference—courtesy of Seamus' macabre sense of humour—to the disciple's suicide and the inference that this plan would be the means by which their Judas Iscariot would hang himself) Harry was a wreck. Every time a positive hit registered on a Signatus he fought down the urge to Apparate to Draco's side and spirit the mage away to safety.

"You really should stop worrying, Harry," Tonks told him as he tried to cover suddenly jerking to his feet as merely a desire to stretch his legs. It was the sixth time he'd done it in the last two hours and by now the ploy was abysmally transparent. "Sie can take care of hirself; always has done," she added with a bitter twist.

Harry looked askance at his friend, who ducked her head and turned away. "Sorry," she muttered.

It was the first time in a while that he'd been alone with the Metamorphmagus and he thought now was a good a time as any to clear the air. Tonks had been off-kilter for a while, he'd noticed. Her usually unruly hair had been cut and styled into a conservative bob that was usually a mousy brown these days instead of the riotous shock of colour she was known for. Even the loud, garish shirts that clashed horribly with her navy Auror robes had been replaced by subdued white or ivory blouses. He'd meant to pull her aside long before now but hadn't found the time. Feeling a bit guilty for being a poor friend, Harry crouched down beside her chair in the makeshift operations station they'd set up in the orphanage's attic.

"Tonks, is something the matter? You've been...I don't know...you seem not quite yourself lately."

She shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "Nice of you to notice, Harry. I guess the world doesn't begin and end with Draco sodding Malfoy after all."

Harry leaned back on his haunches. "Well. That's me told." He blinked in surprise. He'd never known the usually even-tempered woman to sound so venomous. "I-I'm not sure where _that's_ come from, but all this with you lately—the hair, the clothes—what's it to do with Draco?"

Tonks sighed. "Never mind, Harry. You wouldn't understand; you're just as dazzled by hir as everyone else."

Harry reached out and took Tonks' hand. He felt that contact between them was really important right now; even if he didn't quite understand the impulse, he didn't question it. "Tonks, if there's something—look, I love hir, sure, but I'm not blind to hir faults; no less than sie's blind to mine. If Draco's done something—I mean, I love you—erm...you know what I mean. You're my friend and I love my firends and I want to help if something's wrong. Did—did Draco do something?" The question was tentative. Harry wasn't sure where Tonks' anger was coming from and he seriously doubted his lover was responsible for any injury to her, but he couldn't think of another way to draw her out if she was so fixed on Draco being a problem.

"When _isn't_ precious Draco doing something, Harry?" Tonks spat. "Look, just forget it. I'm fine. No worries about the new look. I'm just trying to make sure the right people notice that I've matured. Can't be the chirpy, pink-haired punk forever, now can I?

"I'm tired of being overlooked, Harry. I've a decade of seniority on you and I'll wager I didn't even make Kingsley's short list for task force leader. I just want to be taken seriously, not treated like everyone's clumsy kid sister 'til I retire."

Harry shook his head at the self-doubt in her voice. "Tonks, you _are_ taken seriously," he said softly. "You're a highly decorated Senior Auror; you've loads of field experience from the war and after. I for one have always looked up to you—"

The older woman raised her hands tiredly. "Just stop, Harry; I don't need a pep talk. Just—you wanted to know so I told you, that's all." She stood up and moved into a window alcove; though she held herself rigidly, weariness wafted from her, and to Harry it seemed she was more than just subdued these days. The usually vibrant woman seemed washed-out—_she_ was diminished, he realised, faded as much as her hair and clothes. It saddened him.

"When you want to talk, Tonks, I'll be here to listen."

She didn't answer.

* * *

As they walked from the Apparation point to the cottage that night, Harry asked Draco if sie knew what might be troubling hir cousin. "I can't think of anything at the moment," sie replied, pulling Harry's arm more firmly around hir shoulders even as sie tucked closer into his side. "Neither Remus nor Aunt Andy have mentioned recent difficulties. I've never been close to Nymphadora, Harry. She's never had much use for me; even after Aunt and I reconciled during the war she remained standoffish. I could make some discreet inquiries if you'd like," sie offered.

Harry pressed a kiss into the chilled strands of hir fine hair. "You need a hat; and thank you for offering, love, but no. If something was seriously wrong and she wanted my help she'd tell me, we're good enough friends for that. And if it's just something she needs a little time and space to work out for herself I don't want to pry."

They stopped at the hedge that encircled the cottage and Draco lowered the wards. Sie paused before sie stepped through the door. "If that's what you want. But I don't like that she's caused you such bother." Sie smoothed hir fingers over the crease between Harry's eyebrows. "It's given you worry lines."

Harry captured the slender fingers in his own and kissed their tips. "_You_ give me worry lines. You're a trouble magnet, Draco Malfoy," he said lightly. "I've always thought so."

A pale brow rose. "Have you, now?"

The tip of Harry's tongue darted from between his lips, capturing tiny samples of salt from Draco's skin. "Mm-hmm, from the first time I ever saw you," he breathed.

Draco curled hir bottom lip under hir pearly teeth; hir breath hitched and just as sie opened hir mouth to speak—

"In that case, Harry Potter, you are trouble with a capital T! Now get in here, the both of you, before you catch your deaths!" Helene snapped from the open doorway, hand on her hip and foot tapping.

Draco dropped hir head heavily and cursed. _My sentiments exactly_. Harry stepped back and rubbed his fingers over his forehead in an effort to keep from glaring at his lover's housekeeper.

"I thought you were going to call to say we'd be late for supper," Draco whispered.

"I was...busy?" Harry whispered back with a sheepish shrug.

Draco's shoulders rose and fell with hir sigh. "I'll have you know, Potter, that housekeepers of Helene's calibre are near impossible to find. At the moment I'd say the woman has incredibly bad timing; nonetheless she is a treasure. You lose me my housekeeper and I promise you'll come to regret it." Draco's eyes glinted with amusement as a finger rose to poke Harry between the ribs.

"Yes, yes, I know." Harry sighed playfully and ushered his lover inside. "And so will my children and my children's children in perpetuity," he joked, remembering Draco's admonishments on his first day at Renaissance Foundation.

His lover rolled hir eyes, also remembering, and backhanded Harry's stomach. "Prat."

* * *

The next day was a better one for Harry; he was part of Draco's visible protection detail so he shadowed the mage all through the day as he had in the days before Leslie Redbank's murder. The Auror was amazed at how well the young mogul had adjusted to the small office set aside for hir use at Heritage House, though knowing how adaptable Draco tended to be, Harry supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Draco relied heavily on hir executive secretary to smooth the transition, and Mark Allenby was shuttled back and forth to the sprawling office at Renaissance Foundation several times a day, but really they'd made themselves at home in the cosy space quite quickly. Draco laughed when Harry brought it up.

"The place definitely has its compensations." Sie'd waved at the windows, the motion encompassing a view of the grounds below where a cluster of children too young to attend Heritage Academy were playing. "It's a joy to be able to spend some time with my angels every day. But in general why would I limit myself? There's no point in making do with a smaller office." Sie raised hir left shoulder slightly in an elegant shrug. "I don't want to and I shouldn't have to."

Harry shook his head. "You are _so_ spoiled," he smiled, bemused. "You know it's that very attitude of 'I want what I want when I want it and I'm entitled to have it' that put me off when we first met." Looking back now Harry could see the humour of it, and his rich voice carried its shades. "You reminded me so much of my cousin Dudley."

Draco looked up from the quarterly projections and crinkled hir nose. "That gelatinous oaf from the picture you showed Anna?" Sie was aghast. "However did you manage such a comparison, Potter? Granted, those NHS glasses you wore then were atrocious, but I didn't think your eyesight was so very poor. How in Merlin's name did you make it onto Gryffindor's Quidditch team?"

Harry's lips twisted. "I didn't mean physically, you prat. Your _attitudes_ were similar back then; I thought so, anyway."

"Hrmph." Draco scrolled to the next page of the report and scanned it. Nimble fingers flew over hir Orb keyboard in the next moment. "I was perhaps a mite spoiled then. Mother rather indulged her only child," sie admitted as sie continued to type, "but I learned early on that while a Malfoy should always expect the best, one only receives what they have earned. I deserve what I have and what I want because I _am_ the best, Potter. And I have worked very hard to be so," sie added with a sniff, scrolling through the next screen.

Harry hadn't much to say to that, so instead he leaned down and pressed a kiss into Draco's silken hair. He loved the feel of the soft locks against his lips and the scent that filled his nose when he laid his face against hir head. It had quickly become one of Harry's favourite things to do. "As you say," he murmured.

"I certainly do." Draco split the Orb projection screen so the initial operations report, hir notes, and a third, blank text document were now open and floating in front of hir. Pulling another keyboard forward as though sie had the need to prove hir claim, sie set each hand to work on the separate projects simultaneously. Harry stepped back; knowing it would be a while before Draco surfaced again, now that hir concentration was more fully engaged, he returned to his seat near the fireplace to enjoy the sight of a different kind of artisan at work. Draco's hands move fluidly, like a pianist whose composition featured bass and treble lines with disparate tempos.

Mark came through the Floo then, his arms full of printed scrolls from the consoles at the main office. "Place the advance miniOrb schematics on the work table; the Heritage Youth Summer Excursion grant applications in the Urgent tray; and I'll need your summary of today's correspondence after you fix me a cup of tea, Mark. Thank you," Draco greeted the man, not missing a beat and without shifting hir eyes from the projection screens.

The older man, looking smart as ever, shared a brief smile with Harry. "You'd think I'd be used to it after all this time, but every now and again I'm just amazed. I've never known anyone able to split their attention and multi-task as efficiently as sie does."

"I know," Harry agreed, wonder thick in his voice. "Sie types faster with one hand than most people do with two."

A small snort carried over the sound of clicking keys. "While I appreciate your admiration of my clerical skills, gentlemen, I'd remind you that I am merely occupied, not deaf. Now Mark, my tea, if you'd be so kind? And Potter, I've seen you type. It's no wonder I amaze you, considering the two-fingered hunt-and-peck method you employ." Draco looked away from the projections for a moment to spare the Auror a flirty wink and a cheeky smile.

While Mark laid out the new materials as directed, Harry took it upon himself to fix Draco's tea. When the cup of smoky Oolong was ready he set the filled feather-thin porcelain cup and saucer beside Draco's elbow as he'd seen Mark do countless times (some days it seemed the mage survived on tea alone). "Thank you, Harry," the triarii murmured with genuine appreciation, though sie continued working. No reply was needed. Harry knew Draco was back in hir "zone" and would break only when sie was ready, though it wouldn't be too much longer; Draco hated tepid tea. He leaned back against the wall behind Draco's desk and waited.

A minute or so later the mage finished hir left hand's document with a flourish of fingers. Sie reached over hir still-moving right hand and lifted the cup. "You still need lunch, you know," Harry interrupted.

"I know," sie answered, sipping gingerly at hir still-steaming tea. "I suspect Marie will send angels to fetch me at half noon. It's chicken and ham pie today, and for some odd reason the children have decided it's my favourite food." Sie grimaced and shuddered delicately. "As if—but they'll not be gainsaid. I will admit, though, Cook has managed uncommonly well; the complexity added by the leeks and nutmeg make an utterly plebeian dish passable, not that the children have any true appreciation of it. The most they'll say is 'it's good,'" sie squeaked mimicking a child's timbre; then lamented, "Subtle flavour is completely lost on a child's palate."

Harry bit the corner of his lip as Draco's diatribe petered out, and glanced at Mark. "Leeks and nutmeg?" he mouthed.

The secretary shrugged. "It's good!" He mouthed back with a wink.

Harry coughed to cover his aborted laughter and decided he needed his own cup of tea. He raised the pot and, when Mark nodded, poured for two. As he handed it over they shared another smile. The two of them had once commiserated over Draco's refined tastes. Oh, simple meals were standard at home, but at the office and while dining out the Malfoy training was in evidence. Mark, having come from hearty Lancastershire stock, had grown up on working-man's fare and had had as difficult a time as Harry adjusting to the pretentious, chi-chi finger foods Draco picked at during the day. Harry also knew today's luncheon menu was the result of Mark's secret meeting with the excited children of Heritage House, who wanted a list of Draco's favourite things to prepare for the temporary relocation of their benefactor's office, a list which read more like a list of Mark's favourite things. Not that Harry'd ever tell.

* * *

Lunch was a treat—suggestions were being taken for the Yule holiday decorations and the children's party. Laughter rang through the dining hall as more and more outlandish ideas were bandied about, the suggestions limited only by the children's imaginations.

Afterwards Harry and Draco joined in the day's flying lessons—a kind of mobile levitating obstacle course designed to improve hand/eye coordination and agility. As an extra challenge, Bludgers were released when the adults took the field, and Harry was truly surprised by how hard he'd worked to keep his seat. He made a mental note to suggest a similar course be implemented at the Auror Academy. He had fun but remained alert and watchful; if he was ever tempted to relax his vigilance he need only think of the Signatus in his pocket that had pinged over ten times that day, or look over at Draco's joyous smiling face to remember the high price to be paid for his distraction.

All in all, though, it had been a fantastic day. They'd made their way home without incident and enjoyed the hearty rabbit stew Helene served for supper with crusty bread still piping from the oven. Conversation over supper was light; Harry and Draco recounted some of the children's antics from the day and Draco passed on a request from the orphanage's director asking Helene and Lars to come help set up the holiday decorations and assist with the preparations for the children's party as they had in years prior. Of course the American transplants agreed and Helene reminded their friend of the things they'd need on hand while they helped Marie and the rest of the orphanage staff pull everything together.

After supper Harry offered to wash dishes as Draco and Lars cleared the table, but Helene brushed him off as usual, then actually shooed them all out so she could "finish cleaning up". Draco tugged Harry away laughing, explaining as they mounted the stairs that tonight Orb 37 (otherwise known as The SoapBox) was running a marathon of the previous week's Whimsic Alley airings. Though Helene often complained about the overly-convoluted plots, the ridiculous melodrama, the vapid, heavily made-up actresses, and their male counterparts who were either irredeemable bad boys or heroic paragons, she was hooked on the programme. She was too busy during the day to stop for the original broadcasts, but Draco had noticed that she'd yet to miss a rerun marathon once sie'd had a small Orb console installed in the kitchen. Sie guessed hir friend was just embarrassed about her devotion to the hit soap opera and chased them away to be spared some well-deserved (given her vociferous complaints) ribbing. "So that's Helene sorted, and Lars will likely spend the evening whittling. Yule gifts are always handmade. And that leaves us the evening free. Whatever shall we do to occupy ourselves, Mr. Potter?"

* * *

With a swiftness and strength belied by hir size, Draco swung Harry through and against the guestroom door in one quick move, then stretched up on hir toes and covered Harry's mouth with hir own. Stunned at the suddenness of hir assault, Harry gasped; and as his mouth hung slightly open, Draco pressed hir advantage, plunging into the moist cavern with hir tongue to find hir lover recovered enough that Harry's tongue was now eagerly reaching out to duel. Tingling warmth spread through Harry's palms and shot up his arms as he reached around to bring Draco closer and tried to crawl down hir throat.

Draco broke away, turning hir head slightly to one side to catch hir breath probably, but Harry couldn't let hir get away now; he lifted a hand to the back of hir head, spreading his fingers wide to hold it place. Luscious heat curled within his belly...it was hot, and so good, but it wasn't enough. Harry pivoted when Draco broke away again, and reversed their positions; he tore at the clasps that held Draco's robe closed, heedless of their fine make or the rich fabric. Gaining purchase, he ripped the garment open and stroked his thumbs against the slighter mage's clavicles as he pushed the robe over hir shoulders.

Draco was moaning now and Harry's mouth worked to capture every one of the delicious sounds. Skin and sweat and hot and so good. Harry moaned and licked a long line down Draco's jaw and further to suck on hir neck. "Harry, gods, Harry," Draco whimpered, locking hir fingers in Harry's dampening hair to hold him in the sensitive spot below hir ear. "There, yes..." sie hissed as Harry worked the tender flesh between his teeth. Draco bucked against him and Harry drew his hands up from hir waist to the fastening of the moulded breast band sie'd worn under hir clothes.

Draco wrenched away, slamming hir head back against the door. "W-wait!" Sie held Harry still as hir chest heaved, drawing in much-needed air. When the sizzling haze between them had cleared a little Draco stepped out of hir pants and ruined robes, then pushed and tugged Harry across the room until he fell back onto the bed. Sie climbed over him and with a quick flick and murmured word the Auror robes were gone, leaving Harry in just his trousers.

Harry rolled them over and kissed Draco again as he carefully unlatched the breast band's hook-and-eye closures. The lustful frenzy that had overcome them at the door had passed into something gentler. With the desperate edge gone, Harry slowed the pace of their lovemaking. These kisses were deliberate and deep and wet at first, languorous, and he took his time exploring Draco's mouth with his questing tongue. As the band fell away Harry pulled away and leisurely made his way down the pointed chin and graceful neck, licking and nipping as Draco breathed hard. He paused in the hollow at the base of hir throat, licking away the sweat pooled there. Draco moaned, arching up into Harry's hand. He did not move his mouth from the fragile skin but caressed Draco more firmly, meeting hir need for greater sensation by running his thumb over the curve of hir bared upper breast to hir nipple, lazily rolling the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger until Draco shuddered and clutched at the caps of his broad shoulders. "Don' tease..." A helpless whine passed between hir lips as Draco tensed against him.

"Shh...it's all right, love." Harry nuzzled the valley between hir breasts, then turned his head and sucked and kissed the soft mound. He sealed his mouth over the rosy areola and flicked his tongue over the pebbled nipple. Draco keened and reached for hir straining erection, but Harry batted hir hand away. "Patience," he growled, then lifted his head to meet the grey glare so darkened with lust that the line between pupil and iris was nearly indistinguishable. "Let me take care of you." The world stopped for a moment as Draco worried hir swollen lip between small, even teeth. When sie finally gave a brief, hesitant nod, Harry again lowered his head, this time taking the nipple gently between his lips.

Draco moaned and tangled hir fingers in the silken tangle of Harry's dark hair, just holding; there was no pressure to bring him harder against hir breasts as he kneaded and suckled at one, then the other, lavishing each with attention in alternating turns. Harry might have been content to savour hir breasts all night, Draco was so wonderfully sensitive. He wondered for a fleeting moment if he might bring the triarii to orgasm through nipple play alone. That was for another time, though; tonight a feast had been laid before him and Harry intended to sample more of what there was on offer.

He nibbled and nuzzled down the willowy body, pausing to trace his tongue over the faint outline of hir ribs and rim hir navel before rubbing his scratchy chin against Draco's belly. He loved the contrasts of tones and textures between them, that Draco was so fair compared to his own deeper olive hue; sie soft and smooth where his own skin was rougher, his body hairier. Ignoring Draco's weeping length for now, Harry stroked his hands up and down hir thighs and cupped hir small, tight balls in his hand, gently massaging them. He rested his face in the juncture between hip and thigh, filling his nostrils with the unique tang of Draco's arousal, both sweet and heady, male and female scents combined. He slid down further, pushing Draco's thighs wide, and pressed his face into the space between the triarii's legs, angling his tongue up into the wet heat. Draco groaned and shuddered as the agile muscle smoothed against the slick folds of hir body. Then Harry flicked that wicked tongue against hir clit and Draco shrieked and clutched wildly at Harry's head. Harry chuckled and went at it again as he engaged the artistry of his brand of multi-tasking, wrapping a strong, firm hand around Draco's length and pumping in counterpoint to his tongue's movement.

Draco babbled and sobbed and beat the bed as Harry, filled with a primal sort of masculine pride in bringing his lover to incoherence, pulled back. For a brief moment he admired the sight of Draco so close to flying apart and hir hand sliding faster over the turgid length. Then Harry leaned up and drew the head of Draco's cock into his mouth, sucked that much harder as he slipped two fingers of his free hand into the sweet slickness his mouth had abandoned. "Oh gods, Harry! S'good, s'good...MORE!" Draco begged, writhing. Harry smoothed his fingers against the pulsing walls and rubbed the spot just behind Draco's balls with the tip of his thumb, and sie was done. Screaming his name, Draco convulsed violently; pulses of warm fluid jetted into Harry's mouth and poured over his fingers. Harry rode out the aftershocks and swallowed hir down, gentling and soothing as slight tremors continued to wrack the lithe body. He scooted up the bed and drew Draco into his arms when sie'd finally stilled. A slender, trembling hand rose and pushed his sweaty fringe from his face. "That was...I've never felt anything so good," Draco whispered, hir voice hoarse.

For long moments Harry just held hir eyes; the grey depths were shimmering and so beautiful he would willingly drown in them. "It gets better," he said lightly, his own eyes shining with love. "Gods, Draco, I—"

Those long fingers stretched down from his brow and gently covered his lips. "I know, Harry. I feel the same." Harry dropped his head into Draco's neck and just tried to breathe. He'd never felt so powerful, or triumphant, or complete...it was a bit overwhelming. "Harry? You didn't—we should—"

The dark-haired man sighed and stretched his leg over his lover so sie could feel his sticky, quiescent manhood for hirself. "What can I say, love? You do it for me." He barely registered the tingle of cleaning magic or the blond's faint snort and the mumbled, "So eloquent, Potter," before he succumbed to his fatigue.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse

**A/N:** Next up…Draco's abduction


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Thank you, Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading! Remaining errors are all my own.

And thanks to everyone for such encouraging and enthusiastic reviews! They really made my week!

* * *

**16.**

Harry strode merrily through the Auror division; a good night's rest wrapped securely in Draco's arms had done wonders for the low-level anxiety that had plagued him since Operation Cercis began. All around he felt better, stronger, more settled. Of course that might have had more to do with the intimacy he'd shared with Draco than the actual sleep. He smiled to himself as he entered his office. They'd gone further last night than they ever had before—the trust Draco had shown in abandoning hirself to their passion touched him. Not that the triarii had been a shrinking violet in their earlier liaisons; they'd exchanged handjobs, frotted each other to orgasm, and of course snogged each other senseless numerous times before. But always Draco had remained in control, setting the pace and the boundaries.

Harry was fine with the limitations sie'd set. They were moving more slowly than he had in any other relationship since he'd been with Ginny Weasley at Hogwarts, but what he was building with Draco was also more powerful and more lasting than anything he'd experienced before. He was content to savour the unhurried progression. They had decades to enjoy each other; what were a few weeks compared to that?

Last night, though, had been different and brought them closer to where they'd spend their lives. Draco had bared hirself for the first time and trusted Harry with all that sie was. Sie had made hirself vulnerable in all ways and believed Harry would not press his advantage; trusted him with the care of hir being. It was a precious gift. It was another first in what Harry hoped would be a lifetime of caring and discovery. And despite the newness of this phase of their relationship, the morning had been comfortable and easy between them.

It wasn't really a surprise. They'd shared Harry's bed often enough, and even after that first night Draco had risen the next morning and greeted Harry as though they'd been bedmates for years and sie had every right to be there. Sweet kisses had roused Harry this morning and been deepened to something fiercer before Draco had backed away with a wicked smirk and a brief squeeze to Harry's morning erection. There was no time for more; Draco was breakfasting with the children of Heritage House and Harry was to debrief Kingsley first thing. That knowledge didn't stop Harry from releasing a miserable groan and flinging himself back into the mattress for a furious wank when Draco sauntered from the room with hir delicious backside on shameless display.

He was actually running behind schedule by the time he was ready to Floo to work and nearly bowled Helene over in his rush to the hearth. She'd evidently seen Draco that morning, though, because she held an uncomfortably knowing look on Harry until the harried Auror blushed and turned away. To make peace, she shoved a warming tin with fresh cinnamon rolls into his hands before he Flooed away, but Harry still landed at the Ministry with her laughter in his ears.

And now he was to meet with Kingsley. The Head Auror had been shocked by the conclusions drawn by the task force and seriously disturbed by the backlash Judas Iscariot's twisted crusade would have on the Wizarding world. The Minister was watching the situation closely, anxious about the implications for the true Christians of Britain. Also there were still groups of pure-blood separatists (though none as violent or subversive as the Death Eaters) who would likely try to use the killing spree as evidence of a need for greater controls over exposure to Muggle culture and philosophy.

Thankfully there'd been no further leaks to the press—the heavy fines levied against Auror Bravura and the new assignment that basically signalled the end of her Ministry career served as an example to any who might be tempted to give interviews. No one wanted to be posted with Auror Bravura in the Waste Facilities Management and Maintenance division at Azkaban.

Kingsley planned to release a series of vetted statements to mitigate possible crises once Iscariot was arrested. There was no doubt the whole sordid tale would out but he hoped to control the spin by limiting access to the more salacious details. He also wanted to know how any of this had been made possible and assigned Hermione to uncover Iscariot's true parentage. If he really was Mary Martha Lazarus' son, how could the Ministry prevent other such abuses from occurring in the future; and if he wasn't, where was his family, and how had the deranged zealot concealed his abduction?

Harry strolled into Kingsley's office, cinnamon rolls in hand, and plopped down in one the chairs set before the desk. The dark-skinned man cast shrewdly appraising eyes over his young friend then edged back in his seat, a slow smiled spreading over his face. "Care to share what's put you in such a good mood?"

"No; we're exclusive. You can have a cinnamon roll, though, they're somewhat comparable. Hot, sweet, tend to leave you sticky...."

"Damn, Harry!" Kingsley slapped his desk and laughed hard. "Damn." He reached out for an offered roll. "Whatever else sie may be, Malfoy is obviously good for you." At this hour a Muggle-style carafe coffeemaker was on the sideboard and with a few flicks of his wand Kingsley had two mugs of the aromatic brew floating in front of them. "I haven't seen you so...you've never had joie de vivre before now, Harry. It looks good on you." Kingsley paused and sipped his coffee, looking Harry over once again. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Not right now; maybe over a pint or two when this mess is over. For now it's enough that I'm happy, Kings—like you said. I have joy in my life now and I like it."

The older Auror regarded him solemnly. "Hold onto it, Harry, now that you've found it. Not everyone is so blessed. That it's enough to have you smiling and joking in a time like this, powerful enough to grant you a reprieve from all the worry and anxiety and ugliness of all this, means it's quite special."

He met the deep brown eyes and returned their regard with a promise of his own. "I will, Kings."

"Good." And with a nod the interlude between friends was over. "Now, about these periphery wards at Heritage House. The Minister is concerned about their proximity to the children. Are we absolutely certain they cannot be accidentally triggered?"

Harry debriefed Kingsley on the state of Operation Cercis for nearly an hour, sharing the team's observations, the number of times Iscariot's magical signature registered on the wards, and how that led them to believe he was camped somewhere near the Heritage House grounds as that number of daily Apparations would be debilitating. They'd created a search grid for the surrounding area and hoped to locate Iscariot's base. Things were progressing slowly. Iscariot was cautious now that he was aware the Aurors knew about him. He had not returned to New Horizons at all, but the task force agreed that things were going according to plan. He was so focussed on Draco that attacks on others were highly unlikely.

Kingsley was satisfied with the report, but stressed to Harry that time was short. The public and everyone involved with the investigation needed resolution soon. He suggested that Harry consider patrols of Disillusioned Aurors around the grounds in addition to current measures to try and flush Iscariot out. They worked through the logistics of that idea and Harry prepared to go. He was scheduled to relieve Ron at Heritage House at noon.

"Wait, Potter—there's one more thing." Harry paused in gathering his things. "Memos will go out this afternoon, but I thought I'd tell you in person. Starting next week there will changes in the DMLE. Some of these have been a long time coming. Others...well, the Minister and I are not in perfect agreement on everything, but I want you to know I have every faith in you, Harry, and that my door will always be open to you."

"That sounds pretty ominous, Kingsley." Harry frowned. "What kinds of changes, exactly?"

"Restructuring mostly. After the war the Minister and his council decided there were just too many administrators, too much bureaucracy and red tape. Many positions were cut and the streamlined responsibilities were parcelled out among various staff."

Harry nodded remembering how pleased he'd been that so many of Fudge and Scrimgeour's toadies had been put out when Mr. Weasley came into office.

"In some divisions that streamlining has worked well. In others it's led to a breakdown in communication and cooperation that's dangerous."

"Okay, I can see that," Harry responded to Kingsley's silent prompting. "Some of the problems we've had with getting the Obliviators or Hit wizards to work with us even though we're all DMLE."

"Exactly. The DMLE will be restructured; there will be a Department Head now to oversee all operations and smooth collaborative investigations and responses. Most units in the divisions will be reassigned by squads or units and those will each have their own leaders. We will also be dedicating several members of the Auror Corps to specialised fields. Forensic Research and Analysis, for example—"

Before he could say more the door slammed open and Hermione burst in, wild-eyed and frantic. "Harry! There's been an attack at Heritage House! Ron and Seamus were hit—they're at St. Mungo's!"

From his seat to the door in one swift motion, Harry took Hermione's shoulders. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she cried. "I don't know! Tonks and Hetty responded to the distress call from Seamus' Signatus but they haven't reported back in." The words jumbled in her panicked rush. "I have to get to Ron!"

"Wait, Hermione, I need to know everything they said." When the twitchy woman didn't answer, Harry shook her once firmly. "Auror Granger-Weasley!" Harry snapped, and Hermione seemed to calm a bit. "Are there other injured? What's the status of the suspect? Tonks would have given you that much."

She shook her head, her composure lost as quickly as it had been regained. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know! I don't know anything, Harry!" She raised her voice with every repetition until she was screaming. "Don't you care that Ron's hurt? Why are you keeping me here? I have to—I have to go!"

Harry threw a concerned look over his shoulder and caught Kingsley's nod. A junior Auror came quickly around the corner, obviously summoned when Hermione's state of distress became evident. Harry passed his now sobbing friend into her arms and Kingsley lowered the wards around his office that suppressed Signatus and AFR transmissions. Harry tapped his ear cuff and called out for Tonks.

"Harry, thank Merlin."

"What's the situation?"

"Ambush. Iscariot's gone and...I'm sorry, Harry—he's taken Malfoy."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on making his lungs work. _In and out, nose, mouth—c'mon, Potter, you've been doing this since you were born...in...keep fucking breathing...out...._

"Harry? Harry, are you there?"

_No, not really._ He felt it bubbling up: searing fear and black rage, roiling like tar, choking him. The darkest depths of his magic rose to meet it. Cackling its glee, it manifested: wrapping itself around him, a coiling, hissing Basilisk with glowing yellow eyes and blood-tinged fangs. It would consume him, squeeze everything out, everything but rage and fear and the madness of his darkest emotions.

_NO. I will NOT give in to you. Draco needs me. Anna needs me. You are mine to control. I am master here...master of myself._

With an herculean effort, Harry wrestled his wayward magic back under his control, willed himself calm and ruthlessly suppressed his panic, anger, and fear. "Harry?" Tonks' voice was tinny and distant. "I'm here," he rasped, actually sweating now, and from the look on Kingsley's face his struggle had been visible. He shook his head once; he'd deal with that later. "Tonks, is the orphanage secure? Were any civilians or non-Ministry personnel injured?"

"Two casualties from Anderson agents, but no civilians. Paul Anderson was taken to St. Mungo's and Agent Nick Thomas is dead."

Harry closed his eyes and swore. Though he hadn't known him all that well, Nick was a good man.

"I'll be onsite in five minutes. I want a full report: status on Malfoy, possible bolthole, everything. I want this arsehole now. And make sure Mark Allenby is available when I get there." Harry tapped off his AFR and turned to Kingsley.

The Head Auror's face was grim. "Whatever you need, Potter. The teams dispatched for the New Horizons raid will be prepped and onsite in ten minutes. I'll brief them myself" This was Shacklebolt: hardened Auror, battle-tested and ready, mentor warrior and comrade–in-arms. His steady presence and cool demeanour in crises were more than welcome. Grateful that the other man recognised what Harry had needed and could not articulate at this moment, Harry nodded and stormed out the door.

* * *

The task force leader arrived at the orphanage, commandeered the dining hall, and ordered his team to meet him. Marie, the orphanage's director, was pale, shaken, but collected and said whatever assistance could be provided by her staff would be available. The children were being kept to the day room and gymnasium for the duration.

Tonks, Hetty, Mark, and the remaining Anderson agents made their way quickly into the room. "Report," Harry barked before they were even seated around the main table.

"Malfoy arrived at half seven this morning, breakfasted with the children, and walked the grounds with Anderson Agents Paul Anderson and Nick Thomas and Disillusioned Aurors Seamus Finnegan and Ronald Weasley. They were approached by someone we assume was Judas Iscariot Polyjuiced as Mark Allenby. Auror Finnegan stated that Malfoy was immediately suspicious and called out a warning. Both hir personal detail and the Aurors began throwing offensive spells to disarm and incapacitate the imposter, but he was holding some kind of spherical device that rebounded the spells on their casters at an amplified level. We believe it was the amplification which caused the casualties. Agent Thomas was hit with a Stunner that had the combined effect of twenty."

"Oh hell." Harry swiped his hand over his face. "Where did Iscariot find the resources to come up with something like that?"

"I believe I can answer that." Mark stepped forward and handed over his Signatus. "Meet your Judas Iscariot." A sombre-looking man with nondescript brown hair and watery blue eyes in his mid-to-late 50s or early 60s appeared on the screen.

Harry projected the image, an imprint of an employee identification badge, for everyone to see. "He works on the janitorial crews shared between Malfoy Manufacturing and Renaissance Foundation headquarters, and is known as Jude Cariot. He called in on sick leave nearly a fortnight ago, but he burgled a secure lab at Malfoy Manufacturing early this morning. The recording spells captured Cariot—Iscariot—breaking into the Research and Development division and making off with the prototype used in Mer. Malfoy's abduction."

"Tell me it's the only one of its kind," Hetty implored, thinking how it was going to be near impossible to get close to Iscariot if he had an arsenal of those things at his disposal.

"Yes, it is. The ghelshield device was commissioned by the Ministry as an anti-personnel device for law enforcement use in situations where an Auror is severely outnumbered and under fire. However, testing showed the magics of transference are currently unstable and cause the device to amplify the rebounded spells. It was designed to incapacitate, not kill, so R&D has only produced the one model until the magics can be stabilised and the device used safely."

"Fine, that's one concern taken care of. Now, what do we know about Malfoy? Was sie injured at all?" Harry forced his voice to carry none of the anxiety he felt over the answer to that question. "And Pendleton have you started tracking the charm you put on the hidden blades in Malfoy's boots?"

"Finnegan was the last to see Malfoy; he said sie was unconscious but breathing when Iscariot put hir over his shoulder before Portkeying out," Tonks replied, ignoring Harry's small sigh of relief.

Hetty then shook her head. "We haven't been able to lock onto hir magical signature, or Iscariot's," she answered. "The usual tracking spells came up with nothing and something is cloaking them from the Signatus grid. Even the boot's amplified charm has failed. I'm sorry Harry.

"But I'm thinking that if this device is unstable then that's likely the problem. If it's leaking and powerful enough that would disrupt the grid, and s'the only thing I reckon would interfere with our contingency tracking plan. Can we trace that residue?" Hetty asked Mark.

"I don't know, that's beyond my technical knowledge; but I'll have someone from R&D contact you about it."

"Make it happen, have them send someone who was on the project over to consult. We need to know everything we can about that effin' prototype before we face it again."

"The rest of you pair off," Harry ordered the rest of the room's newly arrived Aurors. "Search the grounds for anything Iscariot may have left behind. He's been off work; he didn't go home, and he's been setting off the periphery wards like mad for the last week. If he's been camping out near here I want to know where. You will all check in with Auror Pendleton every five minutes.

"Tonks, take two pairs and head over to Renaissance Foundation then Malfoy Manufacturing. Check out every inch of Iscariot's workspace and interview anyone who remembers seeing him around. He had to know about the device somehow. Be quick but thorough; we're working against the clock here. But remember that anything could be a possible lead to his whereabouts, and if he pilfered anything else we need to know about it."

When everyone had been given their tasks the Hall cleared; Harry stepped into the corridor and collapsed on a settee tucked into a nearby alcove. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. His magic was there, swirling, pooling, awaiting an outlet. If he relaxed his guard for a moment it would be ready to surge forth and wreak havoc—wild and reckless, conscienceless and powerful, dark—though he needed no reminder of that last after the appearance of the Basilisk in Kingsley's office.

It was the part of Harry which fed on petty cruelty and discord, that enjoyed the twins' more questionable pranks a shade too much; encouraged the barbs Ron, now that he was the Minister's son and held a position of power on his own, sometimes threw at those who'd once snubbed and scorned him. The part that savoured the agony in the faces of criminals Harry had caught once their sentence in Azkaban was determined, and revelled in their pain. It was his enduring legacy from Voldemort, and he hated it and the war he waged with it. Oh, everyone had those parts to themselves, he knew: their little resentments and pettiness. But in Harry those less savoury aspects of his psyche manifested violently in his magic, thanks to his exposure to the dark magic of the Killing Curse in his infancy.

Throughout the war he'd trained to control it, master it so he was no longer at its mercy, so he could access and use his magical strength without being overcome by it. But now and again in times of intense pain and anger it strained against its fetters, and sometimes it slipped the leash. He could do great things then, but Harry was afraid of what he was capable of at such times. Great things—terrible things.

During the war the Weasley twins had been captured by Death Eaters in an attack on Diagon Alley. Harry had been furious, and in a dark haze of rage he had managed to lock onto their fading magical signatures. He appeared in the critical care war at St. Mungo's an hour later with Fred limp in his arms and George barely clinging to his shoulders. All three were bloody and bore extensive curse wounds. None of them would talk about what had happened. Two weeks later, when they were deemed well enough, they led Aurors to where the twins had been held, and found the remains of thirty Death Eaters—bodies shredded open, crushed and mangled into a near-indistinguishable mass of maggoty flesh. Yes, Harry knew he was capable of great and terrible things.

And now a deranged madman had taken his lover. Nothing Harry had ever felt before compared to this. He thought he'd hated Voldemort, and Bella, and Fenrir Greyback—they'd killed his parents and Sirius, after all—destroyed his family. But his love for them, while true and encompassing, was nebulous; he hadn't known his parents; Sirius had been taken from him before their relationship could develop firmly. But Draco was his present reality and future and love, and Harry _burned_ with his loathing of Judas Iscariot. He'd destroyed Voldemort because he loved the Wizarding world and he'd come to pity the being who so feared death and love that he'd twisted and split his soul with darkness beyond imagining. To end it had been a mercy, and hope for the world's renewal.

There was no compassion for Iscariot in Harry now. He wanted vengeance, bloody and raw. He wanted his Draco back, and Merlin help the murderous zealot if sie'd been harmed in any way. Harry's eyes glowed a toxic green as his power surged and settled. For now it would wait—coils of the great snake undulated in anticipation. Soon enough, it would be loosed.

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Thank you, Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading! Remaining errors are all my own.

And again my thanks to everyone for such encouraging and enthusiastic reviews! I took a bad spill last week and I'm still really sore and in lots of pain (I think maybe I took that out on Draco) but I felt so much better reading each one, as far as making me feel better they worked waaaay better than my pain prescription!

**Warnings:** Torture, graphic violence, distorted religious justifications. It's gonna get ugly, hang on.

* * *

**17.**

Draco woke muzzy-headed, clad in only hir trousers and breast band, arms and legs manacled to the ceiling and floor of a small stone cavern filled with dozens of candles. Sie was cold, sie ached, and sie was so disoriented that it took hir a while to piece together what had happened. Sie closed hir eyes against hir budding headache and nearly groaned when sie did—the orphanage, checking in with Nick and Paul, a sneering exchange with the Weasel and that boob Finnegan, walking the grounds—and Mark had approached with the ghelshield prototype saying it had been perfected, that R&D had sent him right over, but that wasn't the protocol and Draco had given Mark the day off for his son's sixth birthday. Sie shouted a warning; suddenly spells were flying and sie'd been hit, felt like a damned erumpent sat on hir chest, then nothing.... It had to have been Iscariot, but how had he gotten the ghelshield, where was he now, and why was sie still alive?

Draco didn't have time to wonder about that or anything else for long. A slight whoosh of air heralded the painful backhand across hir face. "You are awake, servant of Satan. I am not fooled by your dissembling."

The dazed triarii gasped, then hissed as the pain registered. The blow had jostled hir position in the chains and hir ribs were likely cracked, maybe broken, in the earlier struggle at Heritage House. Sie breathed through the sharp ache and clenched hir teeth while the shocking bite of hir ribs eased a little.

"You will face me, demon! You will release Draco Malfoy! In the name of God, I command you!"

Draco resisted the urge to roll hir eyes. Instead, drawing on years of training, sie called on the infamous Malfoy sangfroid and pulled hirself straight in the chains. For now sie would hold hir tongue and wait for what Iscariot would do. Lucius had taught hir well. Never goad the one wielding the whip. It had taken a while, but the loquacious, whiny brat of hir youth had learned eventually that silence brought some peace during hir father's maniacal disciplinary sessions.

"Dare you face me and speak your true name, demon? If you do not fear God you will speak! Or do you fear that He will guide me in closing the path to this vessel and our world should I know your name? Speak and be cast out, fiend of Hell!"

Draco glared.

Then again, sie thought, gasping as another blow landed—this one to hir purpling abdomen and with enough force to bend hir double but for the chains—Lucius would also sometimes punish hir for _not_ crying out during the sessions. Which reminded Draco that all sie'd really learned at hir father's hands was that crazed men are unpredictable and no matter what you do, you'll be hurt if they've taken it into their heads to hurt you. Sociopaths need no reasons and accept no truths but their own.

"Answer me!" This time Iscariot's meaty fist landed across hir mouth.

Pained wheezing and Iscariot's impatient huffs were the only sounds in the cavern, even after he'd drawn his wand and sent curse after curse into Draco's shaking body. Not even an extended Cruciatus coaxed the expected sounds from the tormented triarii.

The plain and sturdy man drew back as the demon stared coolly at him. Nothing! Not a sound! It just stared at him, despite what he knew was great pain of the body. This was not how it should be! The demon should have been screaming its outrage, pleading for mercy, making impossible promises if he would just free it. That was what Mother said always happened when the unclean were discovered and the holy cast them out of the vessels they'd contaminated. Had not the monster that defiled Anne screamed and begged once it realized the end was near, that he and Mother were about to banish it to the netherworld and return Anne to her rightful place as a child of God?

How could this devil—inhabiting the weaker and corrupted flesh of a Malfoy, known Dark wizards all—be stronger than that which had taken Anne—his pure, wholesome sister who died to escape the tainted body Satan's minion had twisted into such unnaturalness? It could not be! This demon was not so mighty—he would see it brought low and then Malfoy, as Anne had in the end, would accept his fate and go willingly into the arms of redemption to live joyously in the peace that reigned in the kingdom of heaven. Yes, that was how it would be.

And once the demon was exorcised, its malicious hold on Wizarding society broken, Judas would continue his work, gathering up the lost lambs and excising their perversions to save their embattled souls. It was, as his mother had warned, a thankless task—the godless did not understand his mission; but as John the Baptist had done for the Hebrews of Galilee he, Judas, would do for wizards: he would pave the way for Christ in the hardened hearts of heathen wizards and witches.

He alone had the heart and faith to do as _must_ be done. Like Job he would suffer for his faith; like Abraham he was willing to sacrifice; like Moses he would lead; like his sainted mother, Mary Martha, he would teach that the way of Christ's example was one of physical hardship, but the reward of spiritual purity far outstripped the privations. Judas nodded to himself and took the latigo flogger in hand. It might be inured to the pain curse, but no one could withstand the lash for long. He knew what he must do.

* * *

Harry had nearly paced a rut in the floor by the time Mark returned with a researcher from Malfoy Manufacturing who'd worked on the ghelshield device. Simon Grocott was a short, portly man with dark brown eyes who constantly patted his thinning comb-over as though checking that the few remaining hairs stayed put where he meant them to. His palm was clammy with nervous sweat when he shook Harry's hand, his speech a nervous twitter when he described the ghelshield device in detail. Despite his rather lacklustre physical impression, he had managed to cobble together a "locator" that would help the Aurors pinpoint the device's position based on the leaking residual magic. It looked to Harry like a cross between a beachside treasure finder and a divining rod; as long as it got the job done though, it could have been a lost relic of the Snorkack hunting heeble-jeebubs for all he cared.

"Y-y-you'll w-want to b-b-be c-c-careful with tth-that," Grocott stammered after handing over the device with the reluctance of a tinkerer who hadn't quite finished with his latest pet project (no doubt the greatest invention in the history of mankind in his view). Harry fiddled with the control knobs. "I-it's not been t-t-tested outside of l-l-lab c-conditions." Harry cast him a wary look. "It's p-p-perfectly s-s-safe, of c-course, b-b-but—"

"I'm sure it meets your usual exacting standards, Simon," Mark reassured him, patting the podgy man's shoulder as he led him away from the collected Aurors and Anderson agents.

Harry climbed up on one of the trestle benches and clapped his hands for attention as Grocott shuffled away mumbling about diversified applications and quantum variables. "All right, people! The Signatus grid registered four disruptions in the last three hours. We Apparate to the perimeter of each disturbance and follow the locator. Remember, minimum force. Iscariot still has the ghelshield device and we know what kind of damage it can do. Our objective is to recover the hostage and bring Iscariot in. We want him alive. Now is not the time to exact payback for our fallen colleagues. Alpha team with me; bravo team with Tonks. Coordinates are on your Signatuses. We Apparate on three!"

The first two sites were duds—a four- and six-year-old, respectively, experiencing powerful surges of wild magic. The grid registered dozens of such disruptions every day as young wizards and witches experienced their magical growing pains, causing accidents all over Britain. The fallout was minor in most cases, but since many of these incidents were caused by Muggle-born magical children, there were the occasional complications to be dealt with.

Harry sighed and pinched his nose under his glasses as a Muggle Relations Specialist led the six-year-old's hysterical mother away. An Obliviator squad was on the way to deal with the crowd of neighbours. _We don't have time for this! I don't need to be here coddling housewives scared witless over a bit of exploding china, and explaining the existence of Magic, when Merlin knows what that bastard could be doing to Draco at this very moment. I need to find hir!_

"—ry…Potter!" Hetty handed over a flask of water. "We'll find hir," she said, speaking to his apparent worry; she didn't add that everything would be fine. There was too much of the realist in either of them to take comfort in the platitudes. "The Obliviators are here, so we can go."

Harry handed back the flagon with a nod of thanks. "On three, then." He met the eyes of his team and counted off.

* * *

Draco did not move when sie regained consciousness this time. Sie knew every moment's reprieve gave Harry more time to find hir—and Harry _would_ find hir, of that sie had no doubt; but if it was to be in a way that would not destroy both him and Anna it would have to be soon, as Draco knew hir body couldn't hold out much longer. Hir shoulder joints were beyond enflamed and there might be lasting damage affecting hir circulation if sie was rescued. Hir lungs ached; sie couldn't tell if there was a puncture in the soft tissue caused by one of the cracked or broken ribs splintering, but it was getting harder to breathe and the wet sound that accompanied hir efforts was not a good sign. Blood loss and internal bleeding were hir biggest concerns. The tenderness of hir belly indicated that blood was rapidly pooling there from an internal rupture. If help didn't arrive soon, Draco knew sie would die.

The battered prisoner couldn't restrain a grimace when the brass butt cap of a flogger prodded hir side, nudging a broken rib. "The demon is awake. Subterfuge is the way of Satan, but hear me devil, I will free this man from your grasp."

Biting back the retort that sie was triarii, not a man, and even outfitted with "girl bits" sie had bigger balls than the deluded arsehole in front of hir, Draco steeled hirself as best sie could as Iscariot lifted the heavy tool. "Be gone, demon! In the name of Jesus Christ, the redeemer, be driven from this vessel!" Another blow landed and Draco moaned.

"Yes, yes, that's it!" Iscariot nodded eagerly, the fervent glitter of insanity lighting his eyes. "Fight it, Draco Malfoy! Call out to God and receive His mercy!" The latigo lash ripped down hir torso, leaving lines of fire in its wake. Too tired to hold back, sie moaned again. "Good. That's very good," Iscariot praised, striking hir chest and shoulders. The studded tips of the fall landed heavily over a nipple and sie hissed. The breast band provided little in the way of protection. "Come forth, Draco! The demon cannot suppress your will. Your faith can save you. God will give you strength to resist its power!" The blows landed more heavily now as Iscariot poured all his strength into pulling the flogger back and down again and again and again, invoking God's name and intoning prayers between breaths as Draco cried out brokenly, cuts opening with every pass over hir bleeding body.

Minutes?—hours?—passed and the beating ended. Winded, Iscariot dropped the flogger and with a tenderness completely at odds with the savagery he'd just displayed, he cradled Draco's face in his sweaty palms, raising hir head to meet his eyes. "Can you hear me, Draco?" he asked gently. "I know it hurts, but it will be over soon. You are so strong to have endured, and now the demon is brought to heel. Only its malevolence could have held your tongue until now. You are here with me now, and I can help you the rest of the way. We can cast Satan's spawn from you forever. Together. All you must do is believe. Accept God's love and mercy. Confess your sins and you will be washed clean. Renounce Satan and his ways, repent of your association with Lucifer, the fallen. The Son of God would welcome you to His table, Draco Malfoy. You know this. Do you accept Jesus Christ as your one true lord and saviour?"

Gathering hir resolve, Draco pulled hirself up in the chains, ignoring the screaming agony in hir shoulders from being held high and awkwardly for so long. Iscariot nodded and stroked over hir bloodied face with his heavily-calloused fingers; guarded hope suffused his face and he nodded again. "Yes, that's right. You accept Christ. Don't you?" he whispered, so close that his rancid breath left moist, putrid vapour on Draco's lips.

With waning strength the triarii drew back and spit a bloody wad in his face. "D-do you h-honestly be-believe...for one s-solitary moment that such...drivel would convince me of anything?" sie rasped, voice grated raw from screaming. "Perhaps you are...unfamiliar with the lessons of history?" sie sneered as Iscariot staggered back, wiping his hand across his shocked face. Draco sucked in a burning breath. "Such 'confessions' did not save Wizarding folk from misguided...Christian zealots during the Great Persecution. I sin-sincerely doubt one would save me now." Sie stumbled further in hir speech, the pain rapidly catching up to hir, but sie pushed on.

"K-kill me now or not, but _do_ stop with your tiresome nattering about repentance and redemption. I will not be party to your delusions or justifications." Draco breathed heavily now; sie hurt—badly—and could no longer draw full breaths, but if sie was to throw Iscariot far enough off balance to earn hirself a reprieve then sie could not stop. Sie had to keep talking—after all, pretentious posturing was a skill sie'd honed. Let it be wielded now to batter hir enemy's defences. Either the madman would retreat to find another strategy to "save" his captive, or he'd be angered enough to land a killing blow that would end hir torment and perhaps keep Harry from having to retrieve a corpse that was mutilated beyond all recognition. Through a mouth looking like an open wound, through teeth stained red, sie kept talking.

"Come now, Judas...didn't that deranged _bitch_ you called mother include the witch hunts in your twisted lessons? Hmm...maybe she didn't. So hard to develop quality...comprehensive curricula these days, you know. Something often has to give. Was it History and Ethics that were sacrificed for Rhetoric and Sado-Masochism in your case? Or did the lessons in history just not take, Judas the Betrayer?

"S-surely you learned your commandments. Thou shall not kill?" sie asked mockingly, forcing air and biting words past the coppery slickness of hir throat. "And yet your namesake did so with a kiss—were you even so gentle with your Anne, or did whips and chains end her, murderer?"

"H-how did you—you cannot know Anne! You cannot speak of her that way! Shut up! Shut up! You're twisting what happened! It wasn't like that!" Iscariot cried and he sank to the floor, arms raised as if deflecting a blow.

"I name you Murderer, kin-killer, slayer of innocents! _That _is the truth! Anne trusted you, loved you, and you _killed_ hir; just as you _slaughtered_ nine other _innocent_ people!"

"No! Anne begged me! She wanted to die! She wanted release—"

"From the torment you inflicted on hir! From the pain you caused hir! Anne was born as sie was meant to be," the mage panted shallowly, this was it. Hir captor was at his tipping point, sie only had to push a little bit further. "_You_ didn't understand. _You_ didn't accept hir. And _you_ killed her in your _ignorance_. Tell me," Draco demanded, weakly sneering at the trembling man, hir swollen lips, cracked and bright with blood, twisted, "is that the love of Christ at work? Is _torture_ and _murder_ the way of your loving, accepting God? If that is how you define salvation, I want no part of it." Though beaten sie was not broken, and with a haughty, superior expression on hir face sie stared the pathetic man down, until with an anguished cry of confused defeat Iscariot scuttled away from the stone room.

Having spent the last of hir surge of strength, Draco slumped in hir chains again, wrenching hir shoulders but too exhausted to do more than grunt softly at the renewed agony in hir strained joints and muscles. _Hurry, Harry,_ sie thought as darkness encroached again. _I have bought us only a little more time, and the cost will be dear; he will be truly angry when he returns. Hurry and find me, Harry. I want to go home._

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Thank you, Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading! Remaining errors are all my own.

And **thank you** for all the lovely reviews. I'm still pretty sore (okay I'm pretty miserable) and haven't been able to get to responses, but I will. Thanks again!

*****First Samuel 2:9 VERY loosely paraphrased.

**Warnings:** Torture, graphic violence, distorted religious justifications, mentions of past physical and psychological abuse.

* * *

**18.**

The Auror teams landed at the entrance of a craggy hillside cave, the sight of which filled Harry with a sense of deep foreboding. Brushing the unsettled feeling away, he admonished the teams to stay close and alert. "Who knows what we'll find in there. But remember, we want Iscariot alive," he said, the green glow of Lumos faintly lighting his face in shadow cast by the cave's overhang. _And that goes for me too: no reckless Gryffindorish heroics, and no loosing the beast!_

"Tonks, take Bravo team to the left; Alpha team with me," he directed a while later when the path split. The locator wasn't working this far underground so they were forced to rely on only themselves. Harry's magic was straining now, snapping and crackling around him like heat lightning.

"Harry, you all right?" Hetty whispered nervously when the smell of scorched ozone reached her nose. She looked over to find Harry sparking magic. "Settle down, yeah? Even if they are down this way we can't just go rushing in—"

"Shh, d'you hear that?"

Indistinct murmuring was coming from up ahead. Harry tensed. _This could be it._ He motioned for Auror Downing to fall back and alert Bravo team to their position.

**CRACK!**

"Harry!" Hetty hissed too late. The young Auror was already powering down the rocky corridor toward the distinctive sound of leather striking flesh. The others could do nothing but follow.

* * *

"You thought to confuse me, but I remember that the son of serpents is the father of lies. The deceiver. You thought to turn me from my path with your gilded forked tongue. You thought to test my resolve and make me doubt my faith." Iscariot stepped back into the cavern and unfurled a menacing-looking whip from the implements on his table. He wound coils around his fist, pulling the leather taut between his hands.

Draco stood still and silent. Sie recognised the look of someone too far gone to be able to stop. The death gleam was in Iscariot's eyes. Sie'd seen the look on the faces of kamikaze Death Eaters, ones so devoted to their purpose that death was the only acceptable end—their own or that of their prey, it did not matter which. Chained and wandless as sie was, Draco knew who must be the victor of this contest. So be it. Sie would not give Iscariot the satisfaction of breaking hir. Sie would not cry out or beg. Sie would stare death in the eye regretful (_So very regretful._ Sie spared a thought for all the milestones in Anna's life sie would miss and the end of hir imagined life with Harry) but unafraid. With Anna and Harry's faces fixed in hir mind's eye, sie favoured hir captor with the most coolly derisive sneer sie could manage.

"You dare mock me?" Iscariot slammed the haft of the whip into Draco's side, forcing the air from hir lungs in a wet whoosh. "I will triumph over you, daemon! As Christ was tempted in the desert I too have been swayed by falsehood to stray, and like our Lord I have seen through your deceit and remain true to course!" Iscariot dropped his left fist, the coils unravelled and he pulled his right arm back. "I will see you destroyed, hell fiend!

**CRACK!**

The whip whistled through the air and cracked so deeply across Draco's chest that the breast band fell open. The sight of hir bloodied chest spurred Iscariot on. "See, the truth is revealed! You have corrupted his flesh!" he shouted, pointing with the haft at hir fully exposed breasts.

"Perversion!"

The whip snapped.

"Defiler!"

Another lash tore a fiery line around hir, cutting into hir back.

"ABOMINATION!"

Iscariot roared and let the whip fly.

Draco flinched. It would slice though hir face, take hir eye, sie realised in that split second, but sie did not look away.

"**ISCARIOT!**"

The blow did not land. Magic—fast, heavy, wild, powerful as the surf—rolled like thunder into the cavern. Draco couldn't tell if hir inability to breathe was the fault of hir own abused lungs or if the magic had sucked all the air away. The only light now flickered eerily from the virulent yellow eyes of the Great Snake wound around the room, glinting off its obsidian scales. "Beautiful." The word was a soundless whisper formed around bloodied lips, and awe was all Draco knew before sie lost consciousness.

Iscariot screamed and backed into his table. He dropped to his knees scrabbling for something he'd knocked over when it tipped on its side.

"Have you harmed my beloved?" Harry's voice, a low sibilant hiss, echoed through the chamber.

Iscariot whipped his head back and forth, wildly scanning the room, desperately trying to locate the source of the disembodied voice. His fingers found purchase on the item he sought and he gave a triumphant cry as he held it aloft. "You have come for your servant, Lucifer, master of serpents, but you shall fail! He guards the faithful, but the wicked shall perish in the darkness!"***** He shook the wooden crucifix in his white-knuckled fist. "The Lord shelters the righteous!"

"Then you are forsaken."

His magic bore down on the trembling man, fangs flashing, eyes gleaming, to rend and destroy, hissing its glee.

"Harry, NO!" Hetty shouted as the basilisk tore into Iscariot, gouging his head and face.

Iscariot screamed and the serpent drew back to strike again.

"ENOUGH, Harry! Let him go!" Taking her life into her hands, Hetty yanked Harry around to face her and gulped, but did not loose her grip even as she took in his glowing green eyes and the darkness of his countenance. "You are an Auror, Harry Potter; sworn to serve the law and protect the people. It is not for you to decide his fate." She shook him firmly. "There are others who deserve justice. Let them see it done," she added softly, nodding as the shocking hue bled from her friend's eyes. She held his shoulders and they stood, just breathing in time when with a flash the Basilisk vanished, the candles flared to life, and all returned to how it had been with the exception of the mass of quivering jelly on the floor of the cavern clutching at his face and neck, moaning as black blood oozed sluggishly through his fingers. Hetty tilted her head and looked her fellow Auror over. "Back with us, Harry?" she asked quietly.

He nodded and she turned to snap at the others gawping around the doorway. "Well don't just stand there like a bunch of snot-nosed firsties! Secure the prisoner, begin collecting evidence—and for Merlin's sake, you morons, someone help me get the hostage down!"

Harry's head snapped over to Draco, still suspended from the ceiling. He sprang to action and guilt flooded him as the manacles snapped open and he levitated the ravaged mage into a supine position at the height of his waist. Sie was a mess. Deep, jagged wounds made by the whip and flogger caused blood to flow freely from hir arms, chest, and back. Hir brown woollen trousers bore sticky black streaks where the blood had run down hir torso in streams. Hir wrists and ankles were swollen; the shackles had cut and torn away the flesh, and the angry patches that remained were beyond raw. Hir shoulders jutted at awkward angles now they were free, and there was nary a spot on hir that wasn't purple or blue from deep, painful-looking bruises. _Draco's chained to the effin' ceiling and you're playing cat-and-mouse with the nut job—good one, Harry._ He was so busy castigating himself that he almost missed the approach of another Auror to his side.

"Mobili—"

"STOP! What the fu—" Harry snatched the young Auror's wand out of his hand. The young man paled as Harry threw his wand back at him. "Damned greenwood," he muttered, refocusing his attention on Draco and beginning an incantation to diagnose and stabilise the wounded, battlefield magic he'd once hoped he would never have use for again in peacetime, but which he'd called upon in more than a few occasions in the line of duty. "You don't move your wounded 'til you've assessed immediate threats to their survival, staunched the bleeding, and settled their magical fields," the irritated Auror growled at the fresh-faced recruit when he'd finished his spellwork. "Otherwise you could further the damage and cause complications in later healings." _And Draco is in really bad shape if the quick scan is anything to go by; sie doesn't have time for your mistakes_. Harry pushed down the voice that whispered the triarii hadn't had time for his interlude with Iscariot either, and he told Hetty she was in charge. "I'm taking Draco to St. Mungo's. Don't expect me back."

"But the anti-Apparation wards—" She closed her mouth over the rest as Harry's magic rose again, whipping around them in a whirlwind. The darkling Auror _pushed_ and the room seemed to bend around them, expanding and contracting in a visible ripple of matter. With a loud crack he and the triarii mage were gone.

"Damned impressive, Harry," Hetty murmured, then turned her attention back to the slack-jawed Aurors seemingly frozen around the room. "Back to work, people!" She leaned over a bit and toed the whimpering wreck that was very securely bound (by the look of the ropes, she'd say he'd been hit with at least five Incarcerous spells and an Immobulus) on the floor. "Judas Iscariot, also Jude Cariot, and other aliases unknown, you are under arrest for kidnapping and inflicting grievous bodily harm on Draco Malfoy; inflicting grievous bodily harm on Auror Ronald Weasley, Auror Seamus Finnegan, and Anderson agent Paul Anderson; the murders of Anderson agent Nickolas Thomas, Leslie Fambrough, Madison Thelwell, Taylor Ablyngton, Sidney Jeffcoate, Chris Calcraft, Cameron Davis, and Leslie Redbank." She thought a moment then added, "Oh, and for burglarising Malfoy Manufacturing and the theft of the ghelshield device. By order of the Ministry of Magic you will be held until trial before the Wizengamot, where you or a representative may speak in your defence. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

Once she'd advised him of the charges and cautioned him of his rights Hetty turned to the Auror who had been chastened for his near-use of Mobilicorpus. "Get him back to the Ministry. Interrogation Room 2, max security. We do this one by the book. I want four Aurors on him at all times, two on the interior. And get a mediwizard to dress his wounds. You, you, and you—" she pointed— "go with him." By now Tonks' team had arrived and Hetty drew from their number so her own team could continue gathering evidence. "Tonks, head back and inform Kingsley." _You're going to rot in Azkaban, you pathetic little worm._ Her grin was feral as the immobilised man floated by her. _We got you._

* * *

­­­Harry was again pacing a groove in the floor when someone reached for his shoulder from behind. Reacting instinctively, the Auror ducked the hand and spun, his wand at the ready.

Blaise Zabini stepped back with widened eyes, his hands up before him. "Whoa! Should've known better than to come up on you like that, I reckon. My apologies, Potter." He chuckled nervously.

Harry blew out his breath and stowed his wand in the holster strapped to his arm. "My fault," he offered by way of apology. "I'm just a little...keyed up still." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and held out the other.

Blaise shook it readily. "No harm done." He smiled faintly. "So how is sie?"

Harry jerked his chin at the closed door across the corridor. "No word yet. They've had all sorts coming and going from that room with all manner of equipment for the last two hours and I still can't get anyone to tell me a bloody thing." He folded his arms over his chest, the fingers clenching on his bicep.

Blaise took a breath and _slowly_ reached for Harry's shoulder. "It'll be all right. You'll see. Draco's strong and in good hands, I'm sure," he said with a firm nod, though whether he was trying to convince himself or the Auror he wasn't sure. "Draco's come through worse."

Harry raised a sceptical brow, then sighed. "Anna?"

"Pansy is at Hogwarts to collect her. Thanks for having Mark contact us. We were notified by the Ministry this morning, but it's being kept very hush-hush; we hadn't heard anything else until his call came in over the AudioFloo. Everyone's been frantic, so we were all so relieved to hear it was over; but none of us wanted to panic Anna, so she's been kept in the dark until now. Pans wanted to wait at least until the school day had finished. Now it's a matter of waiting until Draco's healed enough to receive visitors. I thought I'd check in with you first before letting her know when to bring Anna. I'm going to get Lars and Helene as soon as we've finished here, and Andromeda should be by soon, and Professor Lupin will accompany Anna and Pans."

"Thank you. I know sie'd want hir family here. I just—I can't think about all that right now. I just want to be in there with hir." Harry shrugged helplessly, frustrated with his inability to _do_ anything, to fix it all.

"It's fine, Potter, really. Mark and Pans are old hands at this type of thing. Just leave the relay and rotations to them; they'll handle it. You just worry about being here for Draco and Anna. They're going to need you." Blaise's expression grew sorrowful. "It's going to be especially hard on Anna, Potter. She's afraid of hospital, with good reason," he grumbled darkly. "And seeing Draco hurt may trigger some bad memories for her. She'll need you to stay strong."

Harry turned a questioning look on the family friend and waited. Blaise sighed. "You know her adoptive parents wanted to...alter her when she manifested Triarius? They had her in and out of hospital and various surgeons' offices for months," he continued when Harry nodded. "Consultations with strangers poking and prodding at her most intimate parts, talking over her head and detailing mutilations of her body in the guise of reconstructive operations. All the while _those people_," he sneered, "calling her a freak, and employing all sorts of psychological abuse to make her compliant with their views. When it came out that Anna's allergies and resistance made her a poor candidate for the operations her adoptive parents decided to 'put her right' on their own.

"She was tortured, Potter," he said plainly. "Beaten and starved as part of a conditioning programme to never speak or think of herself as anything but an average girl. And when they felt they'd been successful they planned to...uh," he lowered his voice, "remove any _incongruous_ genitalia themselves."

Harry turned faintly green. "They didn't! Anna—"

"Is whole," Blaise quickly assured him. He steeled himself for the rest; it never got easier, neither the telling nor the hearing. "They couldn't use anaesthesia so they gagged her. At the first incision her magic fought back. It was early days yet for the Signatus grid but the surge knocked the whole thing down, brought an entire squad of Aurors running. They burst in to find a seven-year-old strapped down to the kitchen table screaming blue murder in a makeshift operating theatre...well, it didn't take much to have the parents deemed unfit after that. The adoption was dissolved and Anna was removed to the fostering system."

Harry sagged against the wall. "Tell me they're in prison," he rasped, grey-faced and trembling.

"First offence—heavy fines, magical monitoring, probation, and they're banned from ever adopting again, naturally." Blaise snorted, setting himself beside the wall as well, unobtrusively offering his support.

Nausea rose in Harry as he tried to process his disgust and growing anger. How anyone could do that to any child...but Anna? The sweet-faced angel with her bright grey eyes and sparkling laughter, who gave the best hugs and lovely kisses? He swallowed convulsively, trying hard not to vomit. Anna was...well, she had claimed Harry every bit as much as her vamar; that someone would hurt her in any way was—but that? He wanted to go track down her adoptive parents and.... Feeling his magic begin to crackle, Harry forced himself away from those thoughts; there'd been enough of his magic manifesting vengeance for one day, and it hadn't made him feel better. In fact it had delayed Draco's much-needed treatment. He was needed here, present in all senses, not half out of his mind plotting retribution against people he'd never meet, not wresting his magic back under control because he'd again lost sight of what was most important. Coming back to himself, Harry found Blaise had taken a few steps away and was staring at him oddly.

"All right there, Potter?" He cleared his throat nervously. "You were...uh...."

"Happens sometimes when I get really, truly angry," Harry said dully, brushing off the inquiry. He could tell Blaise wanted to know more, but their relationship was one of new acquaintance, not nearly close enough to warrant the whys and wherefores. "So this conditioning is why she can only speak of herself as a girl?" Harry asked, wanting to redirect Blaise's attention away from his minor episode.

"Yes. Makes me wish for some of that sparking anger magic you had going, actually."

_So much for steering him away from my anger management issues. _

"She's working with a therapist on it. May take a few years yet, but she's making progress." He flashed Harry a brief, proud smile. "She's a fighter, like her vamar." He waved at the closed treatment room door. "And now you see why this'll be so hard for her? She doesn't show it often, but she's still so afraid of being hurt for her difference; it breaks her heart that others have been. She was a wreck over what happened to the Cameron gyrl, and it'll be worse because it's Draco this time."

Harry did understand and his thoughts drifted back to the cave and Hetty's admonishment that others deserved to see justice done_. She was right, of course; not only the victims' families and friends, but other triarii who have been living in fear. And Anna needs it...she needs to see that his reign of terror is over. Nothing is going to change overnight, but a few will learn from Iscariot's example, see what intolerance and rigid insistence on sameness can become. Maybe seeing the spectrum's extreme end will keep others from embracing any shade of that intolerance. And at least this is one monster in the night I've stopped. My girl's a little safer tonight, and I can be proud of that_.

"...her, but sie does what sie can."

The Auror blinked at his companion. "I'm sorry, wandered off for a moment—you were saying?"

"Oh—just that Anna's experience, while extreme, is not so unique, unfortunately. It's another reason, or maybe the underlying reason, why Draco works so hard at Heritage Foundation's success and a return to some of the older attitudes about certain things. Triarii were respected once, you know. Manifesting Triarius was something to be proud of, not hide or try to change. It's only been in the last sixty or seventy years that attitudes have shifted."

_About the time Dumbledore started on his grand experiment. Great men who sometimes make great mistakes indeed, old man. _

Harry wiped a hand over his face. At least in learning about Anna in more detail and the atrocities she'd survived he'd been too occupied to spend each second fretting over Draco's condition. He wondered if the man beside him had done it on purpose.

_Probably; he's a Slytherin too, remember. _

"Auror Potter?" A Healer in blood-stained robes stepped from Draco's treatment room, clipboard in hand and looking toward the two men. "Is one of you Auror Potter?"

"I am." Harry pushed off the wall. "How is sie?"

The Healer smiled gently at his anxious tone. "Mer. Malfoy will make a full recovery, I'm glad to say. Sie will remain our guest for a few days yet; sie was in very bad shape," she added seriously. Consulting the chart, she rattled off the list. "Sie sustained three broken ribs, a punctured and collapsed lung, numerous deep lacerated welts, and a ruptured spleen that caused severe internal bleeding, along with deep tissue bruising over a large area of hir body, a hairline fracture in hir left cheek, and the damage to hir shoulders—" the Healer tutted— "torn tendons and ligaments.

"We performed surgery to remove the spleen, and the bleeding vessels have been cauterised. The lung was repaired and inflated. Mer. Malfoy is on an extensive potions regimen including Skele-Gro to repair the fractured bones, but will experience some discomfort as they mend. Hir ribs will be especially tender, as the fractures were exacerbated by repetitive trauma. The lacerations, both the welts to hir torso and the abraded cuts caused by the restraints around the wrists and ankles, have been healed. We will continue treating these areas with salves that will reduce the residual inflammation and address bruising and scarring. We were fairly certain the marks left by the whipping would scar but we attempted a new spell and salve combination that has healed the areas more cleanly than we could have hoped; we now believe Mer. Malfoy will suffer no lasting aesthetic changes.

"The bruising we will also continue to treat with salves; Mer. Malfoy will experience stiffness as those areas heal. Lastly, the potions regimen I mentioned also includes regenerative agents for the nerve damage cause by exposure to Cruciatus, and anti-coagulants that specifically target the blot clots in the bursa of Mer. Malfoy's shoulders. Both shoulders show circulatory damage from being held so long over hir head; however, the torn tendons and ligaments are being regrown or reknitted, and the bursa should be clear of clots in a day or two. Mer. Malfoy will experience no restrictions in circulation or movement once the healing is complete. Sie will, however, need to remain immobilised while that healing takes place.

"But really, gentlemen, aside from an increased susceptibility to bacterial infection—particularly pneumonia, sepsis, and meningitis, as Mer. Malfoy's immune system has been compromised due to the splenectomy—there will be no lasting evidence of hir mistreatment during hir abduction. Sie will need to be careful around sick people and during flu season and hir primary Healer should also schedule the additional immunisations sie will need to remain healthy. However, there is no indication at this point that sie will lead anything other than a very long and healthy life. After what sie has just survived I'd say sie is a very fortunate mage."

"Thank you, Healer, that's very good news. One thing—may sie have visitors? Hir daughter, for one, will be anxious to see hir."

The Healer nodded at Blaise. "Yes, in about an hour. Give us time to clear out of the room and get hir settled. And then only two at a time in twenty-minute intervals. It's unlikely sie'll wake before tomorrow. Sie was heavily sedated for the procedures, but sie needs hir rest; the potions and healing magic must be given time and a quiet, low-stress environment to work fully."

"That's fine. I just—we just," Harry corrected himself with a nod to Blaise, "need to see hir; know for ourselves that sie's going to be all right."

"Of course. I'll send an orderly to bring you in when we're ready." She patted each man's arm and returned to the room.

As the door snicked shut behind her Blaise turned to Harry. "Well, thank Merlin for that." He favoured the other man with a huge smile of relief. "I'll call Pans and let her know where things stand. If I know my wife she'll have Anna here in an hour precisely. Helene's probably been baking up a storm and driving Lars mad with her worry, so I'd best fetch them now. We'll return as soon as we can. Don't worry about anything, Harry. We'll handle it from here."

"Thanks again, Blaise." Harry clasped the other man's shoulder.

Blaise smiled, met the gesture and raised it, firmly setting both hands on Harry's arms. "No, _thank you_," he said, meeting the tired green eyes with a depth of gratitude that humbled the Auror. "Draco's been my best friend since we were eleven years old, Potter. Sie's closer to me than a sibling. And for months I've been worried out of my mind that sie was going to die; despite the lip service paid by the Ministry wanks we knew few really cared. And if it'd been anyone else...well, no one but you would've gone so far or done so much. Sie wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you. Other Aurors would have brought the killer in eventually, but Draco's life wouldn't have been a priority. You brought hir back to us; I'll never be able to repay you for that."

Uncomfortable with the show of emotion, Harry shook his head. "I wasn't. I'm nothing special, Zabini. I just...love hir. I couldn't do anything else."

Full lips slid into a sly smile. "I know, and I'm thankful for that too. Sie deserves someone who loves hir that much." He squeezed and let the Auror go.

"You know, Potter," he tossed over his shoulder as he headed to the lifts, "you think you're nothing special because love motivated you beyond the letter of your duty—but I think you'd have done the same for anyone that someone loved. It's how we knew we could count on you to end this mess. You love enough for all of us. It makes a difference."

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Thank you, Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading! Remaining errors are all my own.

I am so sorry for the delay, been a really crazy couple of months…on with the show…

* * *

**19.**

Harry's fingers twitched on the starchy rug as he came awake. He hadn't dared to do more than stroke Draco's fingers or hir soft hair since the orderly allowed him into the room. He'd settled for laying his hand beside hirs on top of the coverlet, afraid to disturb the multitude of bandages and magical medical machinery delivering the needed healing potions and monitoring the output from Draco's abused body. He desperately wanted to hold hir hand or drop a quick kiss on hir bruised lips, but he'd been warned there could be dire repercussions for even the slightest jostling; besides, between the IV lines, nasal cannula, the monitoring lines, and sensors, Harry was a little intimidated.

The sound of a throat clearing in the doorway caught his attention and he turned to meet their visitor and stretch, vertebrae popping as he worked out the stiffness from sitting too long in the uncomfortable bedside chair. "H'lo," Harry greeted the new arrival with a small smile.

"Hey yourself," Helene whispered. "Has sie been awake at all?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think the anaesthesia has worn off yet, and sie's on a massive dose of pain potions so sie'll be groggy when sie does come to."

Helene hummed as she heard all Harry had not said, and she gave her friend a quick once-over. "Sie looks...awful."

"Trust you to be blunt about it." Harry cracked a smile. "Looks loads better than when we found hir," he said, his expression darkening as he surveyed the veritable sea of bandages that covered nearly every centimetre of exposed skin. They were needed to keep Draco's fragile skin moist with the salves and ointments that were working to heal hir bruises and scarring; the cuts and abrasions themselves had been sealed during hir initial healing.

"At least sie's not awake to complain about it, vain as sie is. I thought I'd peek in to see how sie was doing in case I needed to prepare...but I think she can handle it as long as you're here. Anna's been worried about you too. Can I—is it all right to send her in now?"

Harry nodded and attempted to straighten himself up a bit while Helene waved out the door. He managed to adjust his skewed glasses and rake his hands through his hair—not that he had any hope that the latter would make a difference to his dishevelled appearance—before the slight eleven-year-old stepped in, uncharacteristically shy and hesitant. "Hi, Harry," she said softly.

"Hello, my girl," he said as he opened his arms. And suddenly found himself with a lap full of weeping child.

"I was so scared, Harry! Auntie Pansy came to school and said Vama was kidnapped and you'd gone to get hir back, and Uncle Blaise Flooed the Headmistress and said Vama was badly hurt but we couldn't come to hospital yet, and we waited and waited. I didn't know what to think!" Her breath hitched. "I was so scared, Harry. I thought you were hurt too and that maybe Vama would die...."

Harry held her as the words, mingled with her tears and fear, were purged from her body in a rush. He found himself glad she'd worn her hair loose today as he drew his fingers up her nape and cradled her head to his chest and rocked gently. He crooned reassurances and patted her back as the erratic pattern of her breathing calmed, never ceasing the gentle glide back and forth in the chair. "I was so scared," she whispered into his shirt, her small hands desperately clutching the folds of his open robe. "So scared, Harry."

"I know, petal. It's all right that you were scared. It's a horrible thing that happened, but it's over now. The...man who hurt Vama can't harm anyone anymore and Draco is here and safe and is going to be fine. Sie's sleeping now, but sie's going to wake up soon and be better and better. And then when sie's perfectly well we'll go home and get everything set up for Yule and Christmas. Lars will bring in a tree and we'll get all sorts of those sparkly baubles you like, and Vama will sit on the couch and order me and Helene around to make sure everything is perfect for hir precious petal, and we'll come fetch you home from King's Cross and have mulled cider and gingerbread that Helene bakes and everything will be wonderful," he promised her, holding her that much tighter and taking much-needed comfort for himself from the picture he'd made.

"You'll be there?"

"Of course." He pressed a kiss into the soft strands of her moonlight hair, a smile touching his lips as they brushed the wide velvet ribbon; it was a gift he'd purchased for her on one of their visits.

"Good," she said decidedly, though her voice was small. "We'll be safe then."

Harry closed his eyes as he grieved for the innocence that Iscariot's madness had stripped away. Despite all that had happened to her before she'd become Draco's daughter, Anna had regained that childish sense of inviolate safety; and now he wondered if she'd lost it again for good. "I'll do my best to protect you, my girl. But no matter what, I will always be there for you. I love you and Draco very much. "

"I know; we love you too, Harry." She sighed and relaxed into his arms.

Now and again Anna reached out to brush her hand over Draco's fingertips, knowing without being told that she wouldn't be able to hug or kiss her Vama as she wanted to until sie was further along in hir healing. Instead she seemed to find comfort in the steady beeping of the vital signs monitor; eventually the rhythmic sound lulled her to sleep and Harry followed, both of them emotionally exhausted.

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to ask you to take your daughter out now. We need to attend to the patient." A kindly mediwizard with a mild voice carefully woke Harry an hour or so later, looking as if he regretted having to break the comfortable quiet of the room. His pinch-faced assistant carried a tray laden with potions, ointment jars, and what seemed to Harry like a never-ending pile of rolled bandages. "You can return in forty minutes, but as it's getting late I suggest you head home and get some rest, and come back in the morning."

"Uh—she's not—I'm, er—yeah...all right. I'm staying, though. I mean, I'll be back when you've finished here."

The middle-aged man smiled. "That's fine, sir. As I said, it'll be forty minutes, more or less. Since you won't be heading home you might want to get a bite to eat and freshen up a bit. You'll certainly feel better and you won't do either of them—" he jerked his head between the slumbering blondes— "any good if you run yourself down."

Harry blinked and blinked, trying to clear the grit from his eyes, and rose slowly, still a bit dizzy and dazed. The mediwizard braced his back and elbow until he was steady.

"Hem, hem. We do have _other_ patients to see to, Mediwizard Greydove."

"We do, yet there is more to healing than just administering potions according to the timetable. We must see to the whole of the patient's recovery—which includes tending to their families, don't you think?"

"Oh—oh, yes, of course, Mediwizard Greydove," the woman simpered. Her falsely high-pitched voice grated on Harry's nerves.

Harry thanked the mediwizard with a grin as the older man passed a hand over Anna's head. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Umbridge, would it?" Harry jokingly asked the woman as he lifted Anna into his arms. The scowling woman abruptly straightened, her face brightening. "Why, yes! Do I know you?" she asked pleasantly and giggled girlishly, impressed with the attention from the handsome man in navy Auror robes.

Harry nearly choked on his shock. "Erm...You could say that. I knew a Dolores Umbridge once...."

"She's my aunt!"

Harry's lip curled. "Yes...I see the family resemblance." _She was a cow, too._ He swept from the room, making a mental note to see if Assistant Umbridge could be reassigned for the duration of Draco's stay. He'd rather not take the chance that incompetence and vindictiveness were also prevalent family characteristics.

Only Remus was in the ward's waiting area to greet them and he easily transferred Anna into his arms. "We're taking it in shifts," the werewolf said in greeting. "Blaise took Pansy to stretch her legs, but she'll return to stay the night. Andromeda and Mr. Allenby will be here in the morning. I'm to get this one back to Hogwarts, but I'll be back with her tomorrow afternoon once classes are over."

"That sounds fine, Remus. They've shooed me out of the room but I plan on staying until Draco is released. For now I suppose I should check in with Kingsley; I left pretty abruptly this afternoon. "

"So I heard," the older man chuckled, "and if the number of calls coming in to your Signatus and AFR are any indication, they're wanting to hear from you sooner rather than later." At Harry's bewildered look the greying Professor nodded toward the ward's monitoring station. "Oh, they're where you left them—they had all of us turn them in when we arrived—but the charge nurse has been complaining pretty steadily about yours. Don't worry, lad; just see to what you need to. The rest will work itself out." The trio headed toward the lifts so Remus could Floo back to Hogwarts from the main lobby. "Oh, I reckon you'll be seeing Ron before I return, so tell him I'll be by to visit with him later."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "Damn. Honestly, Remus, with everything that's been going on I completely forgot he was here too."

Remus elbowed the button for the lift, rocking for a moment to settle Anna as she shifted in her sleep. "Don't worry too much about it, Harry. It's understandable. Your mind's been occupied with so many worries today. He was fine, last I heard. Tonks says he'll be out in another day or so; mostly they're keeping him for rest and observation. He's on the fourth floor, Spell Damage."

"Thanks, Remus. I'll give him your regards. G'night. Take care of my girl, yeah?"

"Of course." Remus graced the younger man with a gentle smile. "And you're quite welcome. I'm just so glad you've all come through this so well. Take care of yourself, Harry." He stepped onto the lift and nodded when Harry waved goodbye.

Harry retrieved his Signatus and ear cuff from the irate charge nurse who tersely suggested he leave the devices, whose magical fields interfered with the ward's medical equipment, at home during his next visit as neither she nor her colleagues were an answering service. He headed for the fourth floor, grimacing at the number of missed calls and messages marked urgent.

He inquired after Ron at the ward monitoring station and that charge nurse congenially directed him to room 417. As he'd expected, he was ambushed by a ginger mob as soon as he crossed the threshold. "Harry!"

Harry barely managed, "Mu-um Weasley," before his head was pulled down and crushed against the matriarch's ample bosom. He narrowly escaped suffocation, only to be mauled by a bushy brown-haired blur a moment later. "Oh, Harry! We were so worried! Tonks said you'd gone in after Iscariot by yourself, and everything at the Ministry is such a mess right now we could hardly get any information from her at all. Even Arthur couldn't stay more than a few minutes. The press is clamouring for details of the arrest, and somehow word's gone round about Malfoy's abduction. It's all such a mess!"

The verbal deluge dried up just long enough for the witch to catch her breath and then she was at it again. "And we knew you were here but no one would tell us anything, so we didn't know if you were injured or not. And who knows what could've happened? Honestly, Harry! Do you _never_ think? Charging off without the simplest plan—he could've killed you with that thing he used on Ron! We don't even know what it is or all it can do! We've been frantic. And Ginny's in an absolute state over you. George finally took her to the cafeteria to bring back a little something for us to nibble on since we've been here all day and haven't had much to eat since this morning. We don't know when Ron will be released but we're staying 'til then, of course....

"Oh, and look at me blubbering all over you, your shirt's all wet. Wait, isn't this the one you were wearing this morning? Have you not been home at all, Harry? You must be tired—come sit down." Hermione chivvied him into the hastily vacated seat beside her own as the overwhelmed Auror tossed a lost look at his recovering friend over her head. Hermione's shifts in mood and topic had been dizzying.

Ron held out his hand. "Don't mind the missus, mate. The hormones have done quite the number on her. Gone a bit barmy, she has."

"Oh, Ron!"

Ron winked and held out a pillow to defend against her flapping hands.

"Hormones?" Harry was well and truly lost now.

"Hermione's pregnant, dear. Wonderful news!" Mrs Weasley chirped from across the bed.

"Oh yes! We'd meant to tell you, but there hasn't been time. We just found out yesterday. I'd been a bit overwrought the last week or so and Molly suggested I go in for a check-up and, well...there you are, three weeks along. We're going to be parents! Isn't it fantastic?"

"Uh, yeah, wonderful really! Congratulations!" Harry hugged the bleary-eyed woman and pumped her husband's hand between his. He smiled as Fred cracked baby jokes and Molly gushed about the joys of parenthood, though she interspersed her tales with admonishments about how dangerous Auror work was and suggestions for other careers for both Ron and Hermione.

Harry good-naturedly went along with it all but inwardly he cringed. _Yes, wonderful, fantastic, glorious, really, and so is the fact that one of the most level-headed, rational women I know has turned into an hysterical spaz as well, lovely really. I hope to Merlin this "hormones" phase passes like morning sickness is supposed to. I don't know if i can deal with months of Hermione freaking out every fifteen seconds_.

Despite his embittered inner monologue, Harry really was happy for his friends. They'd wanted to start a family immediately after the war but decided to wait until things had calmed a bit and they were settled more firmly in their careers. Evidently they'd decided the time was right; he was glad for them that their dreams of life after the war were finally being realised. He was also glad that changes were happening at DMLE. He knew Hermione loved her work with the Auror Corps, but her pregnancy would take her out of the field and into something better for her. Draco had been right: Hermione was not best suited to fieldwork. When it came down to it she could more than hold her own in a fight, but she preferred to use her considerable intellect to prevent the need for violent resolutions.

The new forensics and research division would be a perfect post for her. Harry was sure Kingsley had already tapped her for a key position, given her organisational and...insistent managerial skills. And now that there was a justifiable reason for her erratic and unprofessional outburst that morning Harry was sure everything would work out fine, a thought which reminded him that he needed to be going. He wanted to drop in on Seamus and get over to the Ministry so he could debrief and get back to Draco before too much longer. He had just stood to take his leave when the door opened and he was nearly toppled onto the bed.

"Oh, Harry!"

He rolled his eyes. Harry was beginning to wonder if he'd somehow changed his name to O'harry and forgotten to inform everyone but the Weasley women. "Hullo, Ginny." He managed a weak smile and patted her back.

"Are you all right? We've been so worried!" She patted him down as though checking for injuries, but her touch lingered in places that made him uncomfortable.

Harry disentangled himself, holding her politely at arm's length. "I'm fine, Gin. It's Draco who's been most hurt, but sie'll recover and is resting now."

Ginny's mouth twisted into an ugly moue of distaste. "Oh. Well, that's nice of you to sit with Malfoy, Harry. I suppose you needed to get a statement or something?"

Harry frowned at her expression. "I do—but more than that, Draco and I are together now. I thought Ron and Hermione would've said. It's quite serious, you know." He glanced over at his now sheepish-looking friends.

"We—uh—didn't want to...say anything before—um, you know, mate," Ron hedged. "Since we weren't sure you—uh...." He trailed off helplessly, looking at his wife.

"C'mon, Harry, I'm sure you still need to visit with Seamus. I'll show you to his room." Hermione stepped into the awkward tension and pulled Harry from the room as Molly stood gaping and Ginny rounded on Ron.

"What were you thinking, Harry?" she hissed at him once the closed door was behind them. "You _know_ Ginny still cares deeply for you, and Molly—well, she's been waiting for the two of you to get your act together since the war ended. You can't go around just blurting out things like that with no consideration for other people's feelings!"

Incredulity washed over Harry's face as he looked at his friend. "What are you _on_ about, Hermione? Their feelings? Ginny and I are long done. And no matter what Mum Weasley may have hoped, we were never going to make a true go of it—adolescent infatuation and sibling affection are no basis for a relationship, let alone marriage! She should've realised, both of them should, that I never Resonated with Ginny, not even a little. Should've been clue enough—"

Hermione kissed her teeth. "Tch, not that rubbish again. I told you, Harry—"

"Whether or not you believe in it, Mione—and I suggest you examine your feelings and consider Ron's beliefs before you hurt him any more than you already have—Draco and I _do_ have Resonance between us; our relationship is strong and lasting and we love each other. I suggest you get used to the idea of us together, because sie's not going anywhere."

Hermione huffed and braced her hands on her hips. "Harry James Potter, you must see that no good can come of this latest obsession with Malfoy. And I don't see where Ron and I have anything to do with this drivel you're spouting." She turned up her nose. _"We_ are both mature, reasonable, modern adults who don't hold with such childish notions and ridiculous fairy tales."

"And yet that's exactly what you're hoping for, isn't it? Some storybook ending where the hero wins the war and goes off to marry the knight's beautiful sister and they have lovely children and live happily ever after. Been busy writing me into a fairy-tale life, have you, Mione?"

"Well, no, it's not like that at all, Harry. This isn't anything to do with—we just want to see you settled and happy. This dalliance with Malfoy can't give you that. You need to open your eyes to what's in front of you, Harry. A life with Ginny would be wonderful. She loves you; she's known you nearly your whole life. She's strong and brave, and together you could have a beautiful family. I know you want that, Harry—a family, children to lavish your love and attention on, a partner you can trust and respect. None of that is possible with Malfoy, of all people!"

"And why not?" he shot back mulishly. "A family, children, a spouse I can love and respect. I see all of that in my future with Draco."

The witch was aghast. "You can't mean that, Harry! You aren't actually considering—" her voice dropped— "_marriage_ with that—that—"

"That what?" he asked, voice hard.

"That elitist bigot, is what!" she glared back.

Harry clenched both fists in his hair. "Argh! Mione, you—I can't do this now." He exhaled deeply. "Look, I'm going to peek in on Seamus. We'll talk about this some other time, when you're actually acting like the _mature, reasonable_ adult you claim to be. You're not going to change my mind; I'm not going to give hir up. You and Ron need to get your heads around the fact that sie's not who you thought sie was—see hir for who sie is now, not when sie was fifteen."

Her lips were pursed with disapproval but Hermione nodded. "We've been friends too long to let this come between us, Harry. Go on and see Seamus. We'll talk later."

"Fine." Harry reached for the door handle. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He couldn't think of anything to say that would help. Ron and Hermione would come along in their own time, or they wouldn't. And right now Hermione was wearing her 'I'm right, you're wrong, I just need to prove it to you' expression. "Goodnight, Mione."

He turned his back and fixed a warm smile on his face for Seamus as he walked into the room. "Hey, mate, how're you feeling?"

* * *

**Triarii-specific Terminology:**  
**Vamar:** Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam  
**Veru:** Triarii spouse


	20. Chapter 20

**20.**

"Well hello, Captain!" Hetty raised her cup of coffee in salute as Harry walked into Staging Room 3. By the bleary eyes and slight tremors it was evident that the high-octane caffeine was really all that was keeping her going after such a long, intensive day.

Harry looked behind him and Hetty cackled. "I do mean you, Harry Potter. The department restructuring was announced yesterday afternoon. You've been promoted. Congratulations!"

"Er—thanks. What about you? Any other changes I should know about?"

"Oh well, Seamus, Ron, and I are all Aurors First Class now. Basically we were all bumped up a step. You and Hermione both made captain, but she's now heading up the Forensics and Research Division. The biggest news is that Shacklebolt's been replaced."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What?"

Hetty's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Keep your knickers on. He's been made Department Chief over all DMLE. And...Tonks is now Head Auror!"

"Wow!" Harry goggled. "Really? That's...I never would've seen that coming."

"Well, it's true. Shacklebolt pulled her in as soon as we came in from the arrest. I reckon the announcements were made a little early to keep the sharks occupied while we finished the interrogation."

Harry finally sat down, sobered. "So what do we know?"

The older woman sighed. "It's much as we expected." She gulped down more coffee. "You rattled him pretty well in that cave. He was happy enough to confess to everything, and more besides, when I threatened to send you in for him. Somehow he thought the Aurors had been sent by his god to save him from your snake—called us 'Holy warriors who battled Satan'," she read from the Signatus transcript.

"Is he sane enough for trial?"

"Yeah, no worries there." Hetty waved off his concern. "He can fully distinguish between right and wrong...his frame of reference is a bit skewed, to say the least, but he's competent. No trial date set as yet, but it's likely to be soon. The Minister wants it all behind us before the New Year. In the mean while he'll be transported to Azkaban to wait for the hearings. It's really over, Harry." She clasped his shoulder. "We did it."

He nodded heavily. "We did, but I—"

Her grip tightened, fingers digging into his shoulder. "It's done, Harry. As for what you did?" She shrugged. "You did the right thing when it counted. We've all of us a darkness inside. Sometimes it shows its teeth so we don't forget all we're capable of, but what matters most is that we don't let it consume us—push us beyond the edge. This was personal for you and it came close, but still you did what was right. You made that choice."

"Maybe, but if you hadn't been there...sod the law and what's right, I would've—" He looked at his hands with shame.

"Look, no one ever said we have to face our darkness alone, now did they? What's more, even with help there are those who still lose themselves to it." Her voice was heavy with an old pain. Harry wondered about it. There was something he'd heard about Hetty once... Her eyes were dull with regret and self-recrimination. "It's why I'm not assigned to cases involving young children anymore," she said in answer to his unspoken query. "And while I've seniority on you, I'll likely not make captain for another few years yet, if at all." She raised a careless shoulder. "I've made my peace with it. Considering the state I left him in I'm lucky to still have a job at all..." She stared off into the middle distance through another long draught of coffee, then turned to him, holding his bright green eyes with her own. "T.B.P.—Temporary Battlerage Psychosis." She intoned each word carefully. "That's what they called it, but we know different, yeah? Outrage, frustration, and vengeance are closer to the truth."

Hetty crinkled her nose and drew the files closer. "Now, as I'd like to see my bed before sunrise, you're going to get to work on these reports. Tonks' first official pronouncement was a week's leave for all task force members and auxiliary teams. I plan to sleep for the next three days, so get to work."

The reports were a matter of detailing their actions during the kidnapping and arrest and collating the evidence analysis reports. Harry fumbled a bit in his explanation of his magic's manifestation, not wanting to expose the extent of the danger posed by his uncontrolled magic, but Hetty had him look at her own report, which reduced the vengeance-hungry Basilisk to a large snake, the manifestation of understandable T.B.P. considering Draco's state on their arrival and the likelihood that Harry had entered the cavern just as Iscariot was about to deliver a fatal blow.

The evidence analysis included preliminary reports on the ghelshield device which Harry read with interest. It and the locator had evidently caused quite a stir in the department; many Aurors were excited about the device being perfected and available for their use in dangerous situations so were pushing for as much information about the prototype as possible. Harry scanned a copy of the report and transferred it to Hermione's Signatus via the Aurors' secure channel. With her position now official, the ghelshield was certainly in her purview and he knew she'd want to get started on an analysis of its abilities and possible applications right away. _She'll go spare if she doesn't have something to do in that room besides listen to Mum Weasley prattle on about layettes and the proper set-up for a nursery. Merlin knows Ron's probably all over the Quidditch broadcasts on his miniOrb like a stay-stuck charm. It's the thoughtful thing to do; we might be going through a rough patch right now, but that doesn't mean we stop acting like the friends and colleagues we are._

When he'd finally filed his report and sent the requisite copies to Tonks' and Kingsley's Signatuses, he helped Hetty straighten up the Staging Room and secure all their files before clearing the evidence board. Draco's statement, along with Ron and Seamus' reports, would be added to the master case file at a later date, but as of now the case was officially closed, and in enough time to make Hetty's deadline too.

Harry returned to Draco's bedside to find Pansy in the seat he'd vacated, only she'd Transfigured the uncomfortable stiff-backed chair into a plush recliner. He was curious, but grateful for the small bit of magic since he had no intention of leaving again until Draco did. In the mean while, though, there were no other seats available in the room so Harry gingerly perched himself on the recliner's arm, careful not to wake or dislodge Pansy, who had her hand clenched in the bedclothes beside Draco's fingers. It was uncomfortable, but he'd certainly dealt with worse.

When Pansy woke and pulled the recliner upright Harry tumbled from his perch and landed on the floor with a thud. "Oh—oh, P—sorry, Potter! I didn't realise—"

"No, no, it's fine, really, Park—er, what do I call you now, anyway?"Harry asked, clambering to his feet.

"Pansy." She extended her hand. "We're practically family now, after all." She smiled regally as they shook.

"Pansy, then, and you should call me Harry." He straightened his clothes a bit and looked over to check on Draco. "Were there any problems while I was gone?"

Pansy hid her yawn behind a demure hand. "No, and sie didn't wake at all. A Mediwizard came by to check hir vitals and update hir chart, but otherwise it was quiet." She paused a moment and frowned. "Well, it was after he took that wretched woman away, in any case. I want her banned from Draco's care."

"Lemme guess." Harry's expression was wry. "Pink robes, yea high?" He held up his hand to approximately the right height. "Looks like she swallowed a lemon then brought it back up again? What did she do?"

"Hrmph, that's the one. Sounds as though she made an impression on you as well. Argh! The things she said to me when she saw the chair!

"I am not an idiot, Po—Harry. I don't appreciate being treated like one. I know full well the equipment on this ward is highly sensitive to ambient magic. I asked the charge nurse before even attempting the Transfiguration whether it was safe and went so far as to perform the actual spell in the corridor. I had to have an orderly help me lug this thing through the door _manually_," she complained and checked her nails for residual damage. "And then that—that sanctimonious prig comes through on rounds and berates me like I'm some complete lackwit. 'Hem, hem, Madam, I should have you ejected from these premises. You've endangered the health of my patient for a bit of comfort. No true friend would be so inconsiderate; perhaps the patient wouldn't want you here after all if you're too ignorant and selfish to realise that frivolous magic could set back hir recovery. Why, you could've killed hir!'" Pansy mocked, doing a fair passing impression of Assistant Umbridge. "As if I would _ever_ do _anything_ to jeopardise Draco's well-being—odious cow!"

"Ah, it seems that someone has drawn my darling's ire." Blaise sidled in and handed his wife a tray of steaming paper cups. "Good morning, both of you," he said, handing a wax bag of warm pastries to Harry. "It's not much, Pans, but should tide you over until we can have a proper breakfast later. I'm sure Mark will bring you in something when he comes, Potter."

"Harry," Pansy corrected. "He belongs to the Malfoys now."

Caught between swallowing and spitting out his tea, Harry nearly shot the hot liquid through his nose. "Wh-what?" he sputtered finally.

"Well, Anna and Draco have chosen you," the petite woman said airily. "And you wouldn't be here now if you hadn't staked a claim on them as well."

"That's true...I just—the way you put it—"

"Don't worry about Pansy, Harry. 'S how she classifies everything. She has a bad case of 'only child syndrome'. The world's broken down into what's hers and what's not. She and Draco have it the worst of anyone I've ever seen. Used to cause the worst rows in Slytherin. Sie grew out of it eventually. Pansy? Not so much." The suave wizard winked at his wife and raised his tea to Harry in salute as a pinched look came over her face. Harry could easily see how Blaise's disarming air and debonair charm were put to good use in setting people at ease in his business dealings. Devilishly handsome, the man was as smooth as his cafe au lait complexion, and obviously a good choice for front man of the Malfoy media empire. There was genuineness in his striking hazel, almost topaz eyes, though. It was something Harry was sure was reserved for those he truly cared for. It warmed him that that subtle gleam was turned on him now. "How did sie pass the night?" Blaise asked of Draco, that genuineness coming through his rich voice.

"All right. Hir readings were stable during the rounds that passed while Pansy slept. And Mediwizard Greydove said the anaesthesia has worn off now without complications. Sie should wake sometime today if all goes well." Harry offered Pansy a slight smile. "I'd wondered why he was missing his assistant. I guess I know now, not that I'm unhappy about it. I didn't want that Umbridge woman anywhere near Draco again."

"Umbridge?" Pansy nearly shrieked. "She's related to that—that—and they actually let her work around people?" Her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed. It was an unfortunate expression as it reminded Harry of why she'd been called Pug-Face Parkinson during their school days. "Blaise, I want her sacked. Today."

Harry didn't know whether to be amused by her imperious command or shocked by her assumption that it would be obeyed without question. Remembering the way she'd ordered the Slytherins about during their Hogwarts days, he mused that apparently some things did not change with time.

When Mark came in a few minutes later he brought several copies of the _Daily Prophet_ and worse news. "It's mayhem downstairs! Those reporters are everywhere—they're...like sharks! Preying on anyone who crosses their path, tearing after every little scrap they can find!" Harry offered him a sardonic grin and flipped through the paper. Bold print screamed from every page, but it was the cover headline that made him see red:

**ALLEYWAY KILLER: DERANGED CHRISTIAN ZEALOT!**

**Killer Targets Triarii To "Save" Souls From "Unnatural" Bodies**

Someone had leaked information to the press again. Kingsley was already on it, probably, but...it couldn't hurt to use his own connections, he _was_ "practically family", after all. "Blaise wait," Harry called out to the departing couple and held out the paper. "Cover story—I want to know the name of their source in DMLE. Whoever it is, they're a security risk. I won't have that. Draco would never have been taken had we caught the killer in our first raid, but the press tipped him off and he went to ground. A man is dead and four others injured because of that mistake. No one else gets hurt on my watch because some idiot doesn't know how to keep their mouth shut. I know the press has a job to do, but not at the expense of our cases. It's the victims who pay for these 'big scoops'. I don't want the criminals getting any more help from the inside."

Anger flashed over Blaise's face. "I didn't know the reports were premature, Harry. I'm sorry. It _won't_ be happening again." He held out his arm and the tenacious Slytherin powerbroker became the suave aristocrat just that quickly. "Come, Pansy darling. I want a word with the Hospital administrators about their annual Zabini gift before my meeting with my editors. It seems I need to take a firmer hand in their management."

Harry shook his head at Pansy's wink and waved them through the door. _Gryffindors might charge off to change the world, but it's definitely Slytherins who run it._

Visitors drifted in and out of Draco's room that day: Mark, Andromeda, Helene, Lars, Blaise returned to slip a piece of parchment into Harry's hand with a solemn nod, even Hermione had stopped in for a moment. Beyond a cursory greeting Harry spared no thought for any of them. He had eyes only for the mage on the bed looking so pale and fragile. Despite the reassurance of the Healers and mediwizards, Harry grew more worried as each hour passed and Draco showed no signs of waking. Anna's visit cheered him a little; she was still anxious about Draco's health and obviously uncomfortable in the sterile environment, but she and Harry were determined to distract each other from their worry. The girl pleaded for stories of Harry's Hogwarts days and shared some of her clique's shenanigans (of course times had changed, so they weren't nearly as death-defying as Harry's misadventures in his first year). Anna also managed what no one else had: before her two-hour visit ended Harry had consumed a full meal.

It had made the little girl happy, so he'd complied with her wishes, but now the sandwich and crisps were sitting too heavily in his stomach. Night had fallen and still Draco was asleep. "You have to give it time, Harry," the room's other visitor said as he again stroked his fingers over the triarii's brow. "You heard the Healers. Draco's experienced major trauma and come through a serious operation. Sleep is the body's natural rejuvenator; sie'll wake up when sie's good and ready. None of your fretting is going to hurry hir along."

Harry traced his finger over the whorl of Draco's ear. "I know," he whispered, the night's stillness inviting hushed conversation. "I can't help it." He leaned over to place a delicate kiss on the lobe. He turned back to Helene, surprised to see her wide smile. "What?"

"You _have_ talked about it. Sie hasn't mentioned anything, so I was worried, but I see I was fussing about nothing. I'm glad you have, Harry. I know some might think you've moved a little fast, but I don't see the point in waiting really. When it's right, it's right; I knew what I wanted with Lars right away, and it's obvious you and Draco both want this. Anyone with eyes can see how good you are together—"

Harry held up a hand, confusion written all over his face. "Wait, I don't understand. What are you talking about, Helene?"

She gestured between the mage and wizard. "You just—hir ear, I thought—you mean you haven't talked about having hir ears pierced?"

Green eyes popped wide. "Nooo..." Harry sighed into his hands. "All right, what arcane knowledge of Wizarding culture and tradition am I, lowly Muggle-raised plebe that I am, missing this time?"

Helene patted his knee, the corner of her mouth curling. "Most triarii double-pierce their ears when they've entered a committed relationship. The earrings are traditionally presented as a last courting gift before a couple announces their engagement. There's all kinds of symbolism in it. Cartilage piercings are added to the right ear following the birth of each child, and the left ear if a child dies. A widowed triarii wears three rings in the left lobe. Not everyone does it." She shrugged. "But when I saw you kissing Draco's ear, I thought—"

Harry smiled and noticed that she blushed quite prettily. "It's okay. I see why you might think that...but no, we haven't talked about it...yet." He grinned at her. "I think I might finally know what to get Draco for Christmas, though."

Harry convinced Helene to go home. He assured her he'd be fine for the night and would let everyone know if there were changes. It might have been two or three in the morning and he was just drifting off in the recliner when by some instinct his eyes snapped open. Turning his head he caught the faintest imprint of a smile on Draco's swollen lips. He yanked the lever to pull the chair upright and gently lifted Draco's hand atop his own. "Sweetheart," he whispered, his breath catching.

Long brown lashes fluttered. "That's it, love, open those gorgeous grey eyes for me. I've missed them. Please, baby, open your eyes and look at me," Harry urged, his voice husky.

"'S 'at choo, 'ry?" the triarii slurred long moments later. Hir limp hand barely curled around the Auror's tawny hand.

"Who else, love?" Harry choked back his tears of relief.

Draco's eyes slowly flitted open. "Hey there, beautiful," Harry rasped around a wobbly smile.

"H'lo yourse'f." Draco struggled, blinking the drowsy glaze from hir bleary grey eyes.

"Shh...no, don't try to move yet." Harry laid his hand against hir chest. "You've been charmed immobile so you can heal better. Just let me—" He raised the bed and lifted a glass of cool water from the bedside table. "Here, carefully, small sips—your stomach needs to adjust," he said, bringing the straw to Draco's lips.

The mage turned hir head when sie'd had enough. "Thank you, that's better."

"How're you feeling, sweetheart?"

A pale brow rose slightly. "Aside from being annoyed by your predilection for ridiculous pet names, I feel..." Sie frowned. "Well, not nearly as bad as I probably should."

"Ah, the snark is back! You must be feeling a little better." They shared a grin, though Harry's face fell first. "I am sorry, Draco, that I didn't get there sooner. I let him hurt you, and I—"

Draco squeezed his hand harder. "Listen to me, Harry Potter. You didn't _let_ anything. He," the mage drew a laboured breath, "was insane...ab-so-lute-ly bat-shit. Nothing you could've done. Did the best you could. Came through when...I knew you'd come, understand? I _knew_ you'd come for me. And I was right...always am." Hir grip went slack as hir eyes closed.

"Draco!"

"S'okay...tired..." sie finished, hir voice fading as sie succumbed once again to sleep.

"All right, rest then. I'll be right here."

Reassured by the small smile that formed despite the bruises, Harry laid his head beside Draco's hand, and clinging to hir curled fingers he fell asleep himself.

Draco woke twice more during the night when Mediwizard Greydove came by for his rounds (sans assistant), becoming more lucid each time as the pain potions wore off. A new tapered dose was enough to keep hir comfortable without making hir completely groggy, for which Harry was glad. It was a good sign of Draco's recovery; besides, seeing Draco slurring and stumbling to piece together hir thoughts when sie was best known for hir rapier wit and quick reflexes was more than a little disconcerting. Sie managed to stay awake for a full hour near dawn and the two of them spoke briefly about Draco's captivity and Iscariot's arrest. Harry had refused to look at his lover during the retelling of the Basilisk's appearance. He wondered if Draco might reconsider a future together with someone who manifested such virulent magic. The mage quickly disabused him of that notion.

"I am a Malfoy, Harry. Dark magic practitioners from the start. Do you honestly think the darkness in you frightens me, or would put me off? Merlin, I thought it was the most powerful, sensuous...fucking _beautiful_ expression of magic I have ever seen." Sie dug hir nails into Harry's hand until the dark-haired man raised his face. "_You_ are powerful, sensuous, beautiful, Harry. I will never shy away from that...from you. And I know I will never lose you to it, either. I know what Dark magic can do, how it can be used wrongly or overcome its wielder, but I don't fear losing you to power because you know these things too, and why having control is important."

"Draco, I—" Harry shook his head slightly.

"I'm too tired to argue with you, Harry. Think on it a bit. You'll see I'm right...I always am." Sie pursed hir lips in thought. "Well usually, in any case, when it's most important." Sie fixed hir drooping eyes on Harry. "And nothing is more important than you, Anna, my family."

As Draco drifted off again Harry mulled over hir words. The acceptance he'd received from the mage...that Draco considered him family...perhaps there were things he'd known before, but they'd never been spoken and somehow that made a difference. Harry smiled. He was loved.

The smile was gone, though, by mid-morning when Pansy came in with her now customary cups of coffee and pastry. The two occupants of the room were staring each other down, one insistent, the other petulant, and she nearly dropped the tall paper cups in surprise.

"Oh! You're awake!"

"So you see," Draco drawled, not turning hir head from Harry's glare. "And if you would be so kind, Pansy dear, a cup of that steaming brew you have there will keep me so. One of those éclairs I smell wouldn't go amiss either. Potter here insists on feeding me the dishwater and gruel they've passed off as rations here." Sie twirled hir spoon through the unappetising beige slop on the lap tray. "Honestly, as you love me, Pans—as you love me, feed me," sie pleaded, finally turning imploring eyes on hir friend.

"Nonsense, darling, I'm sure it's not so bad," Pansy hedged, warily assessing Harry's angry expression. She leaned over and kissed Draco's temple, taking a look for herself as she straightened up. "Oh...on the other hand, um, Potter?" She was uncharacteristically tentative in her address. Harry was obviously nearing the end of his patience, and knowing Draco they'd been arguing for a while. "Look, is there any reason that...well, slop really—" she crinkled her nose in distaste—" is being served? Surely an éclair would—"

"The healer said no solids, Pansy," Harry growled. Draco pouted. "I've already spoken with Helene," Harry sighed. "She'll be by with something better for lunch, all right? As it is...Draco, stop being a brat; you know you need to eat something." Harry slipped his hands beneath his lenses and pressed his fingers against his eyes. "Sweetheart, please...you need to keep your strength up," he said tiredly, trailing his fingers down the side of the triarii's healing face.

Draco relented. Sie really didn't want to cause Harry any more stress. Harry's usual state of dishabille was worsened by what sie knew was a lack of decent sleep, nourishment, and peace of mind. The usual mess atop his head was a veritable rat's nest, he bore bruise-coloured bags under his blood-shot eyes, his clothing was a rumpled mess, and he had the heavy shadow of dark beard which just emphasised the ashen pallor of his drawn face. Hir lover needed a shower, a hot meal, and a warm bed, and was unlikely to get it as long as sie was in hospital. Sie didn't need to make things worse.

As the tips of his fingers passed near hir swollen lips Draco turned hir head and Harry pressed the tips down very softly and curled the fleeting kiss into his palm. "As you have been, love?" Draco asked softly, casting a pointed look over Harry's body. "When was the last time you had a solid meal, Harry? Slept in something besides a transfigured armchair?"

"Draco, we've discussed this. I'm not leaving you here."

Calculation gleamed in hir storm-grey eyes. "So you've said, but we'll see. Now, as Pansy is here and I am in no danger of languishing unattended, will you please go find that insufferable Healer, Grimsby-Jones or whatever, and get me an edible breakfast? There's a little restaurant down the corner that serves a fine porridge with star-thistle honey. I'm sure that will meet the nutritional standards demanded by the old battleaxe. I know I must eat and I am a little hungry," sie admitted, then grimaced at hir bowl, "but this is wholly unappetizing."

Harry's lips twisted. "And you'll eat the porridge?"

Sie offered him a regal nod. "I will eat the porridge."

Harry sighed. "Fine. I'll go get you some chi-chi porridge. You are so spoiled, Draco Malfoy."

"Perhaps, but you live to indulge me." Sie turned up hir face for a kiss that Harry gave gladly.

"I love you," he murmured, resting his lips against hir temple.

"And I love you." Hir eyes smiled at him as he drew back. "Now go, Potter. I'm hungry."

He nodded and checked his trousers for his wallet. "I'll be right back."

"Don't you dare come back until you've had something for yourself. And check your calls while you're out, love. And if you would, ask Mark to—"

"No." Harry shook his finger. "No work. You're to rest. Healer's orders."

Draco rolled hir eyes, which abruptly narrowed when Harry left. "All right, Pansy. My gallant Gryffindor is gone, so now you can tell me all the real news. Harry hasn't wanted to distress me so he's been reticent about the details. But I really do need to know everything that's happened."

His long-time friend settled herself in the armchair and popped the lid off her latte. "Well..."


	21. Chapter 21

**21.**

On the fifth morning of Draco's stay in hospital, Healer Grimsby-Jones announced to everyone's great relief that the mage would be discharged that afternoon. Harry wasn't totally convinced sie was well enough to leave the facility, but considering the health and well-being of everyone involved it was probably the best decision. Draco was a horrible patient. Sie sneered and insulted and intimidated all of the medical personnel other than Grimsby-Jones and Mediwizard Greydove. Sie'd sent more than one attendant fleeing from the room in tears and had actually exploded a tray of potions in a fit of temper and uncontrolled magic that had brought every healer on the floor running. Draco was snappish and irritable even with Pansy and Helene, though sie made an effort to govern hirself better during Anna's visits. And according to hir, what made everything worse was that sie was bored, and sie complained about that fact frequently, vociferously, to the point where it was driving Harry mad. He'd come to realise that Draco's usual poise and deliberation generally masked the wild pace at which hir mind worked. Sie was used to constant motion; it was how sie was able to split hir attention so effectively. Sie needed to be working or thinking or processing something pretty much at all times.

Because hir range of motion was limited, though the immobilisation spells were lifted on the second day, Draco took to analysing (and complaining about) hir potions, questioning the engineering of the medical equipment, and pestering any medical professional who came by with dozens of questions on the hows and whys thereof. Sie'd rattle off hir findings and suggestions at Mark, whose visits Harry had limited to one hour since both Director and hir secretary "talked shop" much more than was healthy for Draco's recovery. "You can jump right back in once you've been cleared to go home," he said when Draco complained about Harry's confiscation of Mark's work journal and Quick-Quotes Quill. "For now you need to be resting. Your mind, as well as your body."

The mage scrunched hir nose and pouted. "I have a corporation to oversee and a Foundation to run. The world hasn't stopped revolving just because I'm stuck here, you know, Harry."

Harry handed the note-taking materials back to Mark with a stern look. The secretary sheepishly put it all away as Harry nodded. "Let's pretend it has. It will take you no time at all to catch up. Or do I have to call Pomfrey?" He pulled out the threat Pansy had said would be most effective in getting the blond to cooperate. Harry didn't understand the relationship between his lover and the Hogwarts matron, but if the threat was enough to get hir to behave then he wouldn't question it.

Draco paled. "No! Eh—I mean no, it's all right...don't trouble her. Urgh-I'll hear it soon enough when I go for my follow-up. Grimsby-Jones evidently forwarded her my treatment charts." Sie sighed deeply. "Mark, everything's on hold until I'm cleared. There's nothing overly pressing at the moment. Just the holiday releases of the Orb upgrades, and the Heritage Holiday Party. Keep me summarily informed and delegate everything else to the committee and department heads. I'll be taking emergency calls only—" sie glared at Harry— "for the time being."

And of course Draco was barely through the doors of the car hired to take them to the cottage before hir AFR was reattached, and hir Signatus and miniOrb up and running. Healer Grimsby-Jones had given hir a clean bill of health, though sie needed to schedule time with a physical therapist to ensure sie did not lose range of motion in hir shoulders. Hir wrists and ankles were less of a concern, but the Healer was adamant about weight restrictions for the next week or so and Draco was not to lift things above shoulder height until sie'd been fully cleared by Madame Pomfrey. Sie was supposed to be careful of hir wrists and refrain from overly complicated wand movements—and typing. Harry had taken that last admonition to heart and seized the keyboard for Draco's Orb and miniOrb as soon as they entered the cottage.

He was amused by just how effective the Pomfrey threat was. Draco scowled and pouted and eventually spun off to hir room in a huff, but made no attempt to get the keyboards back. Of course, Mark would likely develop carpal tunnel syndrome from all the keyboarding he'd have to do to make up for Draco's temporary restrictions. And Harry was sure he'd seen Draco's Signatus actually smoking from transcribing hir oral notes so fast, but after another couple of days the magnate felt sie'd caught up enough to slow down once again and resume hir usual pace of things. Harry was particularly glad of this since his week's leave had ended and he needed to return to the Ministry. Besides, Anna would be home for the hols in a few days and he wanted to enjoy this first holiday season together, not play second fiddle to the Malfoy corporate interests or the obligations of Renaissance Foundation. Though there were several parties that he and Draco would be attending for the benefit of both, not to mention his obligations to the Ministry's social demands. And he still had some very special presents to buy.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of things when he returned to the Ministry. He'd taken an extra two days beyond the mandated leave to get Draco settled at the cottage and, if he were honest, to assure himself his lover would be safe there. The Auror's small office had been rearranged to accommodate another desk, one overflowing with parchment roll printouts, scattered file folders, and half-eaten pastries. The rubbish bin was nearly full of crumpled notes and paper cups, and many more hadn't quite made it into the bin but littered the floor surrounding it. Harry shook his head with fond exasperation; only one Auror he knew managed to work in such chaos.

"Hey, mate, welcome back!" Ron Weasley grinned as he came through the door, yet another cup and paper-wrapped pastry in hand.

"Hi, Ron." Harry smiled in spite of himself. It was good to see his friend healed and back to his general good humour, even if there was a serious rift they needed to mend before their friendship would be back on solid footing. And if Harry was a little annoyed that his office, which he'd earned through his own dedicated work, had been changed into a shared space without anyone asking his opinion, well, he kept that to himself.

"So Tonks has us all partnered up now. And it's you and me, yeah?" Ron stretched his long legs over his desk as he talked around his mouthful dropping crumbs on his robes. "Each unit is three partnered teams, one captain per unit. That'd be you, mate," he winked. "'S gonna be brilliant! Like how it was back in our training days. Seamus is partnered up with Draper now and Hetty's with that new bloke, Wingate. We've got a meeting for new assignments later this morning. And o' course we haveta go over the trial schedule, too."

That got Harry's attention. "When?"

"Dunno exactly." Ron shrugged. "Iscariot's slotted for sometime after the New Year. Wizengamot wanted it sooner, I guess, but really there just isn't time. Hired himself some fancy-pants barrister from Barry and Chase." The ginger nodded at Harry's frown. "Yeah, bad news that. But those creeps'll represent just about anyone. Too bad they're so damn good at what they do."

He was right; Barry and Chase Solicitors were the top criminal defence firm in Wizarding London, with a long history of getting the guiltiest clients cleared of all charges or reduced sentences based on technicalities. During the first Voldemort war many Death Eaters had employed their services. They were in fact the first to plead the "Imperius defence" that had set Voldemort's lackeys free. One of their best known tactics was to muddy the waters and put the arresting officers on trial. Harry grimaced at that thought; he knew they would go to town with his manifested magic. If Iscariot got off because Harry had screwed up, he'd never forgive himself.

"Hey, mate." Ron waved his attention back to their conversation. "Don't worry about it. We're going to bury them in evidence. Mione's unit is all over it. They've pulled all sorts of stuff from what you lot brought back from that cave, and with what we found at New Horizons there's no way he'll wriggle his way off the hook for this. Murdering bastard'll get what's coming to him, no matter what those sleazy bastards do.

"Anyways, that's it for that mess. I'm just glad it's over, you know? Bloke was mad, and that stunt he pulled on us with that gel-thingy..." Ron shook his head. "I just wanna know what Malfoy was doing with somethin' like that. You know? Makes you wonder what else he's got up his sleeve. I don't trust it. Sayin' the Ministry wanted it—I can't see that. I haven't talked to Dad about it yet, but I think we've finally caught him in a lie that'll send his arse to Azkaban where he belongs. I mean, c'mon, that's a terrorist weapon right there. Obvious proof the man's planning on taking a shot at the Ministry."

Harry sighed; it was too damn early for this. "Ron..." he started with strained patience. "I really need you to hear me on this." He looked up at his friend, who was staring at him intently. "Not just listen and have it go in one ear and out the other. Really hear me, because I'm getting tired of having to repeat myself. Draco is not working against the Ministry. _Sie_ does not have some nefarious plan to take over Wizarding Britain. _Sie_ is my lover, my life companion, and it really is ridiculous and disrespectful that you keep spouting all this nonsense every other conversation I have with you. I've said before that you and Mione need to get used to the fact that we're together. And you say 'yeah sure, all right,' and the next minute you go off with this crap again. It's gotten old, Ron. You're smarter than this, and more mature than you've been acting. I don't know what you and everyone else have been secretly hoping for me, but this is my life. I'm very happy with it. And I want to keep being happy with it, which means my lover and my best friends really need to try to get along and _stop_ being so suspicious of each other.

"The ghelshield is like any weapon; it's the wielder who decides if it's put to good use. It _was_ commissioned by the Ministry. And you can check with your Dad if you don't believe me, but Draco and I talked about it at St. Mungo's; Malfoy Manufacturing has contracts with several Ministry departments including DMLE to design and produce various useful devices. Some are like the ghelshield, others are to enhance analysis or increase protection or communication capabilities. These contracts aren't unusual; in fact several of hir competitors have similar contracts with the Ministry for new technologies.

"And the last thing—Mione was on you in the beginning, and Merlin knows I've been on you for it, and even Hetty has said it. I would have thought what happened with Mer. Blackforge would have been enough to get it through even your thick head," Harry growled at the gaping man. "Triarii are different. And it is ignorant and offensive that you keep trying to slot them into categories they don't fit into. Draco isn't a man; don't refer to hir as one." Harry raised a warning finger. "And don't even think about repeating the kind of crap you and Seamus were spewing before. Merlin's sake, Ron, you were raised a wizard. I don't understand how any of this is difficult for you. You've known triarii, or about them, your whole life!"

"You done?" Ron asked. At least he was calm. That had to count for something. Harry nodded. "Good. Okay, look, I've thought about this a lot, and I understand about the whole 'triarii are different' thing. I get that now, I do. I just slipped, okay? I didn't mean anything by it. Honest, Harry. I know I had some problems before, but what Hetty said really came home for me. I'm not a bigot and I needed to stop acting like one.

"The rest? It's Malfoy we're talking about, Harry. Malfoy. And Resonance or not, even knowing what I do—and believe me, I'm sickened by what Sirius did—I'm still suspicious of anything to do with that twitchy little ferret." He held up his hand as Harry made to protest. "I can't help what I feel, Harry. I don't trust hir. I don't know if I ever will. But sie's important to you and you're my best mate, so it may take a while, but I'm gonna try, all right?"

Some of the tension dropped from Harry's shoulders. It was a start, and as mule-headed as Ron was, Harry knew even that little bit was momentous. "All right."

"So—uh..." Ron massaged the back of his reddened neck, uncomfortable with the honesty of the moment; he really didn't do emotional scenes well. "We okay?"

"Yeah, we will be." Harry was resigned. Things would be awkward for a bit, but they'd get through it; they always did. Though Harry really wasn't looking forward to explaining about Anna's Blood Rite adoption, he wasn't sure how many more knocks to his staid worldview Ron could take.

Having regained their emotional footing to some degree, the rest of the day passed quickly for the Auror partners. They received their new assignments from Tonks. They were relatively minor cases, to Harry's surprise, but he thought perhaps they'd been given a lighter caseload to ease them into the new pulse of the department after the intensity of the Iscariot case.

Tonks also invited them to a small celebratory dinner her mother was hosting that evening to mark her promotion. A quick call over the AudioFloo revealed that Draco had been invited by the hostess herself and wanted to attend, even if Tonks wasn't hir favourite person. It was a chance to see Remus, sie said, and sie promised Harry sie'd make an effort at being polite to his friends.

He and Ron split up the interviews for the burglary at an antiquities shop that reputedly did brisk business in the sale of Dark artefacts, and Harry headed back to the cottage relatively early.

"All right, Harry, out with it," Draco ordered, folding the length of patterned brown and chartreuse silk around the Auror's neck into a knot as they finished dressing for dinner.

"Hmm? What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying not to fidget as Draco adjusted his stiff collar.

"Something is bothering you about Nymphadora's appointment to Head Auror. I can tell."

Harry shrugged on his robe. "She hates when people call her that, you know," he dissembled, tugging the mélange serge to hang properly. It was one of his favourite new purchases. Draco did have a great eye for what worked well on him but was still comfortable. They'd gotten it during one of their weekend jaunts into London on another one of Draco's infamous shopping sprees.

"Yes, I am aware. It is her name, however; and you still haven't answered my question," sie said doggedly, and turned around so Harry could seal the back seam of hir tunic. The mock-turtleneck was a Moon Frog creation from Lavender Brown's casual evening line. Draco took every opportunity to display the young designer's talents and this evening, though mostly a gathering of family and friends, was no exception. The seam, a wide swath of tone-on-tone embroidered ecru ribbon, was sealed magically rather than with a Muggle-style zip or manual fasteners.

Harry ran his wand up Draco's spine, smiling briefly at hir slight shiver. "Well?" the mage asked, undaunted, as sie straightened the long pleat that ran from wrist to shoulder, making sure the embroidery beneath peeked out as it should when sie moved hir arm.

"I just—I was surprised, is all. Tonks is a great Auror, Draco, truly she is, but she—there's more to being Head Auror than good field skills. She's not the most organised person," Harry admitted with a sigh. "Even I get my reports done before her and I _hate_ paperwork. Tonks is just...she gets distracted by the low-level administriva duties required of every Auror; I don't see how she's going to handle the demands made on the Head Auror. I don't see it. And...and I should be happy for her. She's really wanted greater recognition in the department; I'm just not sure this is the right move for her. I don't know if she was the right choice," he finished softly, sadly, and looked away from his too-astute lover.

"You feel disloyal, guilty for your honest acknowledgement of her skills or lack thereof," Draco surmised, sealing the wide ribbons that served as cuffs for hir modified bishop sleeves. "Your silence is answer enough. Harry, I don't know if it will help or hurt to know this, but you're not the only one to doubt this appointment." Sie grinned wryly as Harry turned back to hir with a shocked look. Sie nodded. "I've managed to keep my ear to the ground despite your attempts at swaddling me, you know. Others are aware of Nymphadora's strengths, love, and they're well aware they do not lie in administration. Very little of this has to do with my cousin, actually. It's more what she represents as the daughter of a pure-blood matriarch who's tied to Weasley's opposition. Oh, don't look so surprised. Andromeda is a well-respected member of the Renaissance Party and active with the Foundation. My cousin was offered the position as Head Auror as a sort of olive branch...an invitation to coalition, and a sign that while Weasley's administration maintains its progressive Muggle-born integration policies it's willing to work with the supposedly more conservative factions that support organisations like Renaissance. The hope is to divide those factions so Davis' candidacy is no longer a threat."

"So this is all ploys and games? They're screwing with the department and my friend's life as some...political manoeuvre?" Harry spat in disgust. He hated this aspect of the Ministry. And with Arthur's election he'd honestly thought he wouldn't have to deal with it any more. This was the kind of politics that had plagued Fudge's administration, and Scrimgeour's, where it was more about how things looked than what got done.

Draco smoothed hir hands over Harry's chest, soothing. "I know it's frustrating. But these are the kinds of games that have always been played to some degree or another. True, Minister Weasley hasn't been the sort to reward personal affiliations with political gains or make appointments based on political pandering, but that was because he didn't have any serious opposition. Now that Davis and Blackforge have the kind of backing that could oust him from office, he's falling back on what he's seen work before, even though being so different from his predecessors is what's kept his administration honest—poorly managed at times, but honest.

"Truthfully, I think it's a bad move. The Davis campaign has staunch supporters and allies. And Nymphadora's position won't change their minds about supporting the status quo. I think the Minister's received very poor advice and was a fool to act on it, more than likely because it was recommended by Percy that utter lackwit he calls a son; now that the shifty little power-monger has finally wormed his way onto the Minister's Council. It will end badly, Harry. And I'm sorry for Nymphadora, as she'll be the one to shoulder the backlash."

Harry could see it spiralling into something awful, and given the way the press and public assigned blame and praise to the managers and heads of departments, he knew that if things did go badly it would be Tonks who was led to slaughter. _What a wonderful attitude to bring to her celebration dinner. _"Maybe...let's try to have a little faith, yeah? It might all work out."

Draco snorted. "My cousin is many things, Harry, but a leader to inspire loyalty and devotion to one's duty? No. She's a good fighter; the comrade you'd want at your shoulder in battle, _following_ the command of your leader. I give it four months...perhaps less." Sie squeezed his arm. "You're worried about tonight aren't you? Don't be." Sie shook hir head. "Tonight we celebrate that she's accomplished something she wanted, deservedly or not. For now, that she is a poor choice is immaterial. Besides, Aunt Andy is serving roasted poussin with sage and apricot streusel, which is delicious, and I may actually manage a whole serving since I'm finally allowed to eat real food again. I'm much too excited about that prospect to let a little thing like the capacity of the guest of honour spoil the evening. So—" Draco looped hir arm around his— "shall we go?"

Dinner was an exercise in what Harry privately called Ministry manners. That he was actually surrounded mostly by friends and family and _not_ attending a state dinner was a bad sign for the overall tenor of the evening, which Draco pointed out was precisely what his aunt had meant to accomplish; firmly squashing any hope that she would use her influence to bridge the political divide between her daughter's superiors and her own associates. She'd shrewdly invited key members of the Renaissance Party (Mr. Davis and Mer. Blackforge, of course) and several socially influential players on the political scene, as she'd no doubt been meant to when "that young upstart Weasley" approached her with the idea of a semi-public celebration of her daughter's achievement. The Weasleys were all there, of course, except Ginny who had meetings with her Mastery committee all through the week. Not that Harry had a chance to do more than say hello and briefly re-introduce Draco to the clan before they were ushered to their seats.

A few of the more politically minded amongst the Auror Corps had also been invited, and Seamus and Hetty as members of the task force were there. Kingsley, a couple of other department heads, and a select few highly decorated members of the Order of the Phoenix, including Headmistress McGonagall, were present. Andromeda Tonks had invited them all, used Wizard Space to expand her dining room to five times its usual size, then sat back and let them have at it.

By the time the main course was served Harry had lost count of the number of gaffes and slight missteps made on all sides. He cringed inwardly when Percy, trying for something obsequious, flat-out insulted Delegate Hawthorne's Italian wife. _There goes his chance at being named representative to the International Confederation of Wizards_. And he nearly groaned aloud when Tonks narrowly avoided knocking her wineglass over on one of the Renaissance Party's advisors. Luckily Remus' quick reflexes saved the moment, but it was obvious by the end of the night that Tonks was out of her depth. She just didn't have the political acumen to swim with the movers and shakers.

Kingsley often came to her rescue. Even Remus once or twice; having had the experience of negotiating these waters when fundraising for the Lycanthrope Refuge or mobilising against prejudicial and restrictive laws, he knew how to approach the myriad delicate conversations being held in the brief exchanges. Most surprising to Harry, Draco had smoothly cut in a time or two to redirect the flow of conversation to Tonks' impressive war record, reminding everyone of her courage and conviction. Harry squeezed hir hand in thanks, though by the look sie gave him he knew they'd be talking it all out later.

When the interminable evening was finally over Tonks closed the door behind the last guest and threw her head back hard. "Well, I made a hash of that now, didn't I?" she said miserably, her mousy hair dulling further.

"Nonsense," Andromeda snapped, and hugged her daughter. "Only now they know not to try to use us against each other in their political games. It won't work. I'm not going to provide a platform for them through you as they thought. And as you make your own way the rest will see how very much you are your own woman: strong and independent, not a puppet for anyone as some might have thought. All of this takes skill and practice, my dear. You'll soon be outmanoeuvring all of them—you'll see."

"Nymphadora, if you let them cow you now they'll think they've a ready marionette for anything they plan for the future. Listen to your mother. Aunt Andy is right. Hold fast; no doubt you will do your best." It was left unsaid that Draco thought her best would be nowhere near enough.

Tonks narrowed her watery eyes at the mage. "You're very smug about how things turned out, cousin. But don't think I won't be watching you too."

"Dora!" Remus scolded his wife. "Draco is only trying to help."

"I don't want hir kind of help. That's exactly the kind of thing they want, for me to go in quietly with all their backroom deals." She straightened and stomped away.

"Draco, love." Andromeda turned her hands out. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over her lately."

"Don't worry about it, Aunt. You know Nymphadora and I have never seen eye-to-eye on much. It'll be fine." Sie kissed her cheek. "Thank you for a lovely dinner and a most...enlightening evening. I enjoyed it. Now, I'll call when Anna comes to King's Cross and we'll have lunch, all right?"

"Yes, that's fine, dear. Have a good night." Andromeda turned her head and looked worriedly back down the hallway.

"Thanks again, Mrs. Tonks," Harry slipped in, and Draco nodded hir head toward Tonks' exit.

"Good night, Andy. Go see to Nymphadora. I'll call. The same to you, old man." Sie held out hir hand to Remus and was drawn in for a quick hug.

"We'll talk soon," the harried werewolf assured hir, and hugged Harry too before waking his mother-in-law down the hall.

They Flooed home in silence, Harry's heart heavier than when they'd arrived. _Four months, Draco said. Not even. What the hell is going on with her?_


	22. Chapter 22

**22.**

Harry managed not to worry about Tonks too much. He'd had a long talk with Remus, who said the witch was just feeling unsettled in general and a little overwhelmed by the pressures of her new job. He'd give her some time and space, as Remus was sure she'd come around.

He and Ron seemed to have settled things as well. As long as Harry didn't "flaunt" the relationship with Draco, his friend was fine. The conditions rankled but Harry didn't push, especially because the society pages of the _Prophet_ spotlighted a new picture of them in nearly every issue these days. They did more than enough flaunting for everyone's tastes. Harry's social calendar was busier than it had been since the war; between Renaissance functions and Ministry parties it seemed he and Draco hadn't had a night to themselves since hir release from St. Mungo's. And since the triarii was determined to attend every function, refusing any opportunity for hir competitors and detractors to say sie was irreparably weakened by hir ordeal, Harry had to go along. And he hated it. He absolutely hated the constant barrage of sly jabs and crude questions that accompanied every outing. Gawkers and gossipmongers pestered Draco almost nonstop, and as head of the task force Harry was also subject to prying and speculation. He'd never dealt well with that aspect of being a public figure, and these days it was all he could do to keep his wand in its holster.

It had been a near thing, just the other night. He'd been so tempted to hex the whole lot of gossiping harpies at the Ministry's Annual Holiday Ball when he overheard them wondering if Draco had survived captivity so well because sie was used to being tied up.

"I heard Harry Potter's into all sorts of...games," one confided with a smarmy grin. "Mathilda Worfletter told me that she heard he's a frequent customer at the Red Thorn." She dropped the name of London's most exclusive and expensive fetish shop with a scandalised whisper.

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest," said another in haughty tones. "That club Malfoy runs—Transferral or whatever—John says it's nothing but deviants and perverts who go there. Now you tell me, someone like that...humph, I bet sie probably enjoyed every minute of hir so-called kidnapping."

"You'd lose that wager, I'm afraid, Mrs. Waverly," Draco drawled smoothly, stepping from behind Harry and placing a hand over his wand holster. "It was alternately excruciating and terrifying. Certainly not something anyone with a healthy sense of self would enjoy." Hir tone and expression were perfectly polite, belying the threat held in hir eyes of flint and steel. "Now if you...ladies will pardon me, I feel the need for a turn or two on the dance floor. Mrs. Elberth, if you'd care to indulge me?" Sie extended hir arm to the group's ringleader and led hir away as the others, flushed with the knowledge that they'd been overheard, peeled away, refusing to meet the angry Auror's flashing eyes.

"You managed that well," Harry told hir later, as he led them through a waltz. "I swear I was about to—"

"—hex their intestines out through their overactive noses? Yes, I'd noticed, which is why I came to rescue you, as tempting as it might've been to let you do it. I don't fancy spending the holidays with you in Azkaban's visiting room, Potter. Besides," sie winked at him, "how would I have explained it to Anna?"

Harry rolled his eyes, amused despite himself. "You are a menace."

"Yes," sie'd answered readily, "but I'm _your_ menace."

"Too right." Harry spun them through the next turn and dipped hir slightly. "Mine." He smiled against hir cheek and left a light kiss there. A claim and a promise.

And _that_ was the other thing Harry really didn't like about the social obligations of the holiday season. Draco pushed hirself to the limits of hir strength every night. After long hours at the office and with the physical trainer, what sie needed was rest. What sie got was even more long hours of dancing and mingling that left hir drained. By the time they got home sie was too exhausted to do more than put hir robes away and collapse into bed. And considering just how...well, delicious Draco looked in some of hir dress robes, Harry was maybe just a little frustrated. _Fine, maybe more than just a little. Merlin, last night sie was—_

"Wow, I think this is the most daring one yet, Cap'n!" Hetty whistled as she turned the latest society page toward him as he came through the break room door. Hetty had taken to snipping out the photos and sticking them up around the break room. The paparazzi's love affair with everything Harry and Draco had been fodder for good-natured ribbing all week. He took it in stride; there'd been no offensive or derogatory comments made in his hearing. Plus all the pictures were getting on Ron's nerves, and Harry reckoned the other man deserved the aggravation. Besides, as Hetty had said, most of it came from plain old jealousy that none of them had anyone half so gorgeous on their arms every night. That much couldn't be denied; if anything, each picture captured just how incredibly stunning a creature Draco was.

And Hetty was right about this last as well. Harry poured his tea and looked the snapshot over appreciatively. It was a very good image of them, captured from an angle where Draco's open back was exposed and hir face shown in profile. They'd been dancing and Harry was very relieved that the editor had chosen to run a photo where their hands were clasped over his chest and his other hand was actually on Draco's waist for the entire loop. He'd spent an awful lot of time last night running his hands over hir arse.

"If I could get robes that looked half that good on me I might actually go to one or two of those things without a wand to my head." Hetty looked down at the picture again. "Not that you'd catch me ever wearing something like that." She squinted. "Is that hir arse-crack showing?" she asked incredulous.

Harry laughed. That had been his first question when Draco paraded into his bedroom wearing the revealing robes. It was, of course, another one of Lavender's creations. The over-robe was completely backless and cut very deep into a fall of sheer panels in varying shades of gold. Sheer pagoda sleeves billowed over Draco's arms and ended in points just past hir wrists. Sie wore fawn damask trousers underneath that rode so low one could easily think the top of...well, hir arse crack, really was showing. And that was just the view from the rear!

The crushed velvet bodice under the over-robe was also backless and the front so tight Harry was sure hir breasts were going to pop out and say hello at any moment. The style truly accentuated the slenderness of hir waist and Draco's natural lines. And however it had happened, Draco actually managed some serious cleavage in the outfit. Harry had been damned impressed (among other things). The whole ensemble was decadent, and scandalous. Sie was so damed sexy in it Harry hadn't wanted to leave the cottage; he'd wanted to just rip the whole thing off with his teeth and ravage his lover. Barring that, he'd wanted to go smile some fake smiles, shake a few sweaty hands, and call it an early night so he could take hir home and pull the over-robe to pieces, but again what Harry wanted and what he actually got were two very different things.

Knowing just how amazing sie looked, Draco had pushed him to his absolute limits. Sie'd flirted and titillated him all evening. Sie'd slide and glide around him, making the golden panels dance around hir legs and swirl around hir hips, hints of skin playing peek-a-boo and driving his lust higher and higher. Sie kissed him and ran those long, elegant hands coyly over his shoulders and belly, and just when he thought he'd explode from hir teasing touch sie'd skim them along the hem of hir bodice or brush a hand across hir creamy cleavage, pull him onto the dance floor, and _almost_ grind against him. It was a wonder the press had managed a single shot where the loop _didn't_ include Harry groping hir arse, though thinking on it he figured they probably had Blaise to thank for that.

"Cap'n, you really need to get a handle on those mini mental holidays of yours." Hetty snapped her fingers to bring him back to the here and now. "Though judging by the bit of drool hanging from your mouth I'd wager the scenery was very nice wherever you went off to." She winked at Harry's blush. He _had_ been a little distracted by the memory of their detour to the loo after one of the faster dances. Draco had done this little shimmy thing and Harry, having been hard and aching most of the night, had nearly come in his pants. The mage finally took pity on him and led him off for the fastest, most spectacular blow job he'd ever had in his life. "Aww, c'mon Harry, stay with me here! So...who do I have to see about getting a set of sexy dress robes for myself, eh? And will it cost me every Knut in my savings?"

"Oh—uh—Lavender Brown, an old classmate of ours. It's Moon Frog Fashions, or Designs, something like that. It's mostly kids' clothes at the shop, but don't let that put you off, yeah? The formal stuff is in a separate part of the store; you have to ask the clerk to show you."

Hetty nodded. "And will I cry when I get the bill?"

Harry smiled. "No, it's all pretty reasonable, I think; about what you'd pay at Gladrags, but better quality in my opinion. " He shrugged. "Not that that should count for much since most days I'm happy in ratty tees and faded track pants, but Draco's a bit of a clothes horse and sie's only wearing Lav's stuff these days, so I reckon she knows her business."

"A bit of a clothes horse, you don't say..." Hetty pointed to the many pictures around the room, not one of which showed Draco in any of the same clothes or accessories. The two shared a laugh then Hetty leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, "You can tell me, Harry, I won't say anything, but I've always wondered...Malfoy's hair, is it really that colour?"

Harry chuckled. Hetty wasn't gossipy or laid back like this very often. It was a good to share a casual with her. He looked down at the snapshot again. It had obviously been taken before the loo interlude because Draco's hair was still pristinely coiled in an elaborate double chignon stuck with chopstick-like hair ornaments. It'd been a lot messier after Harry had freed the white-blonde spill and threaded his hands through it as he guided Draco's bobbing head. As they were returning to the ballroom sie'd just twisted it into a hasty loop and secured it with one of the long lacquered sticks. "Yeah, it's all hir, definitely not from a bottle."

Hetty sat back with a pout. "Damn! It figures. Some people have all the luck."

They chatted a bit more. It was a light morning for them both, and Harry had taken the afternoon off. They talked about their holiday plans and Harry's great relief that there'd be no more social functions with the glitterati until the New Year's Eve party at Transcendence since Hogwarts was letting out for the hols today, and once Anna was home all their evenings were booked up with family time. "Speaking of—" Harry looked down at his watch. "I need to be going, Hetty. Meeting the Express, you know." She waved him off with a grin, and after a quick stop by his office to let Ron know he was leaving, Harry was on his way to King's Cross station.

The train pulled in precisely at noon and Harry stood proudly beside Draco as Anna came bounding off, all hugs and smiles, babbling excitedly about her afternoon of shopping with Harry. Andromeda had been unable to make the lunch appointment they'd originally set so Harry had decided to take the whole afternoon off so he and Anna could spend it shopping together. Draco needed to attend a shareholders' meeting at Malfoy Manufacturing that looked asif it would last the whole afternoon, but sie would join them for supper at Anna's favourite restaurant in Diagon Alley, The Smashing Pumpkin.

Her vamar handed over a pouch of galleons and reminded Anna to be responsible with her purchases, while Harry set a quick shrinking charm on her trunk, and then the two were on their way. Before the shopping extravaganza (Harry had blanched when Anna had unfurled the scroll listing who she needed to buy for) they'd have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. There was something he needed to ask her.

Harry loved to watch Anna eat; she was so dainty, swirling her chips in the malt vinegar just so, stopping between bites for a sip of butterbeer, really she was just too adorable. He loved her sweetness and light, her charm and determination; he just loved _her_, and it was past time he said so. He wiped his mouth and greasy fingers on a serviette and waited for her to finish this last mouthful and look up at him. "What is it, Harry?"

"I love you, Anna." He smiled at her pleased but puzzled grin.

"I know."

"But I haven't really said before, have I? I love you, Anna; you are precious to me and I want to be a part of your life forever. There are...other children in my life who I love. But what I feel for you is different. I love them and they're part of the family I've cobbled together through my life. You're part of that family, but...Anna, those other children, I don't think of them as _my_ children. You...I want you for my child, my daughter, do you understand?" Harry was frustrated; this wasn't coming out as he'd planned. He'd never been very confident about expressing his feelings; sometimes it was right on and other times he fumbled around like an idiot, tripping over his words his meaning unclear. He looked at her, hoping maybe he'd said enough this time.

Anna was beaming. Her perfect cupid's-bow lips spread in a wide smile over the row of pearly white teeth, and her face was suffused with the kind of joy only children are capable of: that purest mix of love, wonder, and awe, and belief in happily-ever-afters. It rose up around her and surged across the table, filling all the corners of Harry's heart, and for a moment he basked in its blessing.

"I love you, Harry, and I very much want to be your child. And you can marry Vama and be our family forever, okay?"

Harry grinned and blinked away the tears filling his eyes. "Okay." He rasped, choked with emotion. "But what say we go buy hir some earrings first, yeah?"

Blonde wisps floated around her face as she bounced her head up and down. "Good plan." She popped the last chip in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Harry?" she began after she'd swallowed. "When you marry Vama and I'm yours too, can I call you Dad?"

Harry closed his eyes, nodding. If he tried for anything else he'd start to cry, and he didn't know whether he'd be able to stop. All his life, what he'd wanted most was a family of his own. And without reservation this one girl offered him all she had with complete faith that he was the right fit. Harry rose from the table and opened his arms. Anna was there in a moment, wrapping her arms around him.

They didn't mention it, but everything changed from that point. It wasn't just a day of shopping with a close family friend, or the man dating her vama. It was a father-daughter outing, and the two bonded as parents and children do when spending time together. They poked through a dozen different shops in Diagon Alley and Muggle London: bookstores and gift shops, novelty stores, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and others, ticking through Anna's gift list. It seemed to Harry that she planned to get gifts for all of her year-mates at Hogwarts. There were a few special gifts for the other girls of the quintet and her closest friends through Heritage Youth, but everyone would have a gift, no matter their House, just because Anna felt everyone should receive something as it was the friendly thing to do, and she had the means to do it.

She bought a stack of holiday cards at Flourish and Blotts, and all the makings for her Yule gifts. It was Malfoy tradition, she explained, that Yule gifts should be handmade. The more secular Christmas celebrations throughout the Wizarding world were nearly indistinguishable from Muggle holiday traditions, but Yule was a special and spiritual time when families held to their own ways and means of commemoration. Harry had never celebrated Yule, though he knew people who did. Neville and Susan had invited him once, but he'd been in the middle of a case and had sent his regrets. It made sense that he was incorporating so much of Wizarding reclamation in his own doings as he entwined his life with Draco's, but it saddened him as well that he'd missed out on so much of his own heritage. He wondered about the Potter family Yule traditions and made a note to ask Remus what the older man could remember. Surely his grandparents had held with the old ways, and his father celebrated Yule as a boy. And Sirius must have as well, but Harry thought he could ask Draco about the Black family traditions. Perhaps there were some they could adapt from each other's families in new ways.

The last stop before supper was Berillus, a small upmarket jeweller known for their beautiful and unique settings and more traditional styles. If they were going to find a set of customary triarii earrings anywhere it would be here. And confirming that belief, they nearly toppled over Mer. Blackforge as sie was leaving the store.

"Auror Potter," sie greeted, steadying Anna as the girl apologised. "It's quite all right, child. And what's your name?"

"Anna."

"Lovely to meet you, Anna. I see Hogwarts has let out for the hols, then?"

"Yes, Mer—" She looked at Harry, who flushed.

"Sorry, where are my manners? Anna, this is Mer. Blackforge. Though she was older than you, I think you knew hir child, Cameron Davis."

Anna's eyes widened. "Oh. You're Cam's vamar! Sie talked about you all the time. Sie...I'm very sorry," she offered with quiet reverence. "Sie was a very good friend. I looked up to hir a lot."

Aubrey Blackforge reached a strong hand under Anna's chin and tilted her face upwards. "Anna...Anna Malfoy?"

"Yes, mer."

"I remember now. You and your friends sent longi lilies and pink roses to Cam's memorial. That was very kind of you, child. We appreciated your regard for Cameron very much, and I'm sure that sie saw and loved them as well." The older triarii sighed deeply, then composed hirself. "But you've had your own share of tragedy lately, haven't you? I'm glad it ended better, that your vamar wasn't taken from us." Sie smiled briefly at Harry. "We have you to thank for that, Auror Potter, and we have long memories, the Davis and Blackforge clans. We will not forget that you brought our Cam's killer to justice."

Harry shook his head. "Please, I don't—I was just doing what I had to. But maybe that's something to be discussed at another time. Anna, are you all right?" He didn't like the girl's sudden pallor and stillness.

Anna turned and hid herself in the folds of Harry's cloak, sadness and grief increasing her need for solace and safety. "Mer. Blackforge, I'm sorry. It was good to see you, but I want to get Anna out of the cold."

"Of course, and I am sorry if I've distressed you, Anna. Please, give your vamar my best."

Anna nodded against the thick wool but didn't turn to face the mage.

"I've shaken her badly, Auror Potter. I didn't mean to, please, get her inside," Blackforge said, worried. "There are refreshments inside, which should help. A little sugar for the shock. I'd forgotten how little time has passed since—never mind, go on. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon, and in better spirits I hope. Have a blessed Yule, both of you, and happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Mer. Blackforge." Harry shook hir work-worn hand and ushered Anna inside.

It was a while before Anna was feeling back to her normal self. She'd been shaken pretty badly by the reminder of her friend's death and Draco's kidnapping and the extensive injuries sie'd suffered during hir abduction. The healing properties of hot chocolate soon had her set to rights, and over a steaming mug from the proprietor they sat and perused the collection of double hoop earring sets. Anna was partial to a byzantine style set, and argued her choice for a good half-hour before she finally caved. The pair they settled on were simple and elegant, just a stately coil of platinum in an endless hoop. They were magically self-piercing; and as individual hoops were also available, Anna bought one with a tiny bezel-set jewel, then with all the Malfoy arrogance informed Harry and the proprietor that she was sure Draco would want her birthstone on the earring. She was probably right. Harry certainly wasn't going to argue; Draco would say he was finally learning.


	23. Chapter 23

**23.**

Two days wasn't much time but Harry did manage to fit in another talk with Remus before the Lupins arrived to celebrate Yule at the cottage. Andromeda Tonks also came with stories of the holidays shared at Grimmauld Place where the entire Black clan gathered when she was a girl. Pansy and Blaise were also welcome additions and explained to Harry that as they were each the last of their families (Pansy's parents had been killed by Death Eaters during the war as punishment for refusing financial support to Voldemort, and Blaise's mother, the reputed Black Widow, had reaped as she'd supposedly sown a few months after the war ended, murdered for her riches by her eighth husband, a young Dark wizard with a talent for the Imperius), they'd long since agreed to share Yule with Draco and then Anna, blending their family traditions together.

"We're making new traditions from the old," Pansy smiled and waved her hand to mean all the people in the room. "Until the Great Persecution families all celebrated together. Now, we've Malfoy and Black, Zabini and Parkinson, Lupin and Raeder, and Potter traditions all together making Yule special."

"What better way to celebrate than bringing our families together in warmth and light?" Helene added, guiding Harry towards another set of candles that needed lighting. She stroked the boughs of holly and evergreen beneath the riser, then squeezed the cap of Harry's shoulder as he took the taper and lit the rest.

He and Anna and Draco and Lars had been setting out greenery all the day before; now sprigs of mistletoe, holly, and evergreen boughs strewn with white and silver and bright gold ribbons, fairy lights, and glass ornaments adorned the tops of every window and door. And now the cottage was ablaze with the light of all the candles they'd placed.

During their lavish supper Remus recalled a Yule celebrated with Harry's grandparents in his fourth year at Hogwarts and told them that the Potters were most adamant about having lots of candles. James' mother insisted they lit the way from the dark; every flame, she felt, shone with a bit of the brightness from each person's soul, their strength and goodness, their compassion, caring, and pride. Draco had been delighted with the notion and taken it a step further so between songs and stories they'd spent some of evening talking about the virtues and strengths of their families and carving those words into the many candles with sharp quills. Harry stroked a finger down the side of this last one. Anna's script was etched in the side; it was one she'd made for him. "Because Harry is brave, the kind that chases the monsters away," he remembered her saying as he traced the five letters, and was thankful for her faith in him.

Remus had also set down what he remembered from the Potters' blessings. As the newest to join their circle, the Malfoys agreed that Harry should be the one to cast the first blessing and begin the ceremony. So as the clock neared midnight everyone bundled up in their winter cloaks and scarves to follow the slightly nervous man into a clearing not far from the cottage greenhouse where Draco grew Anna's favourite roses all year round.

Lars and Harry dug the fire pit that morning and set the giant log. Now Harry stepped forward, conjured flame in his hand, and made his offering, intoning the words passed to him from his grandparents. "From the darkness is born the light; from the void comes life. We now honour darkness; we have sheltered, but the time of darkness is now past. We celebrate the light and rejoice in the return of the sun. What sleeps will soon awaken and all shall blossom in its warmth. Welcome the return of the light! Come, Light, and grant blessings of strength and renewal for my house and my kin."

One by one, starting from Harry's place at the eastern point of the circle, they approached the Yule log with their conjured flames and called out their blessings, voiced their hopes, invoked their gods and goddesses. Oak King and Star Child, Crone and Great Mother, nameless elementals and ancient spirits; whatever their traditions, they asked that the gifts of wisdom, patience, joy, love, family, strength, kindness, generosity, health, and enlightenment be bestowed in abundance on all they held dear.

When they'd finished Harry quietly strolled back to the cottage beside Draco and Anna. It was cold—his own cheeks were ruddy with it—but he hadn't noticed until now, when he caught a shiver from Anna. He scooped her up and Draco slipped hir arm around his waist. They made their way back, closer in some indefinable way, the bonds between them as warm and bright as the awaited sunrise. Everyone would exchange gifts now and likely doze a bit before starting breakfast. Andromeda had more stories to tell and Blaise had wheedled a promise from Pansy to sing. They'd have breakfast together at sunrise after that their guests would head to their own homes. Anna would go with the Zabinis for the next two days and return early on Christmas Eve to spend that day at Heritage House with Draco, Harry, Lars, and Helene.

Now, though, she perked up as Helene and Blaise ladled hot spiced cider into large mugs. Like most children, she was energised by the prospect of presents, it didn't matter that she'd been flagging just minutes before. The kitchen benches had made their way into the sitting room, along with a couple of padded stools and ottomans from the cellar, even though it was close quarters everyone got seated comfortably or leaned easily against the walls. Anna had designated herself the gift-passer and darted around handing out gifts or piling them up next to their intended recipients. Gifts were opened at leisure as people chatted and told stories.

For the most part Yule gifts were simple, as Draco had told Harry when sie'd caught him worrying the week before. Harry had been unsure about that statement, considering the resources available to the Malfoys and Zabinis he was sure simple gifts weren't their usual standard. But now as he looked around and opened his own presents, he understood.

Harry shifted in his seat and freed a small, flat box from his pocket. He'd already given Draco his Yule gift, a beautifully knitted scarf in rich hand-dyed wool, but he'd learned to trust his gut over the years and his instinct said now was the time for this. He handed the box to Draco. "Because we're right," he said softly, but with conviction.

Carefully Draco lifted the lid; hir breath caught in surprise and pleasure. Somehow the small hitch had drawn attention and soon everyone gathered was watching hir finger the small gleaming rings. The mage closed hir eyes, and long moments later when sie opened them again, they were glistening. "They're perfect. Put them in?"

Harry nodded and ever so tenderly guided each one through hir flesh. When it was done and all four hoops hung shining in hir earlobes the stillness of anticipation was broken as Blaise raised his tankard. "Well it's about time! Congratulations!" The room erupted with his shout, laughter and well wishes coming from every corner.

"To Harry and Draco!" Remus took up the cheer. "May you have the blessing of love this Yule and evermore!"

"To Harry and Draco!"

Happy voices and full mugs were raised in toast to the young couple—all but one, yet no one noticed her scowling face amid the joyous celebration. Tonks carefully schooled her face as her mother approached, dabbing the tears from her own changeful grey eyes, Andromeda's eye colour was part of the Black legacy she shared with Draco and Anna; nearly as trademark as the unique blond of the Malfoys, and unfortunately it was a family legacy she had not passed on to her daughter. "Isn't it wonderful, Dora? I'm so happy for them. Draco's finally found someone worthy to share hir life."

"Yeah, it's great!" She quickly reordered her face to look enthusiastic and gave Andromeda a hug. "Listen, Mum, I'm not feeling all that well. I think my lunch just didn't agree with me," she explained hurriedly as the older woman's face fell into a mother's worry. "It's nothing too serious, I'm sure, just had something dodgy from the caf. I've been feeling off all day, so—uh, I'm calling it a night. Go home, take a stomach-settling potion, and toddle off to bed. Will you tell Remus I've gone? I don't want to take him away from everything. "

"Of course, dear, but—"

Before Andromeda could say that her son-in-law would rather accompany Tonks than stay, her daughter was gone in the green swoosh of the Floo. Sighing to herself because she wished Nymphadora had spoken up sooner as she was sure Draco had potions on hand, Andromeda turned back to the couch so she could offer her own personal congratulations and explain her daughter's absence. Anna, however, had the couple's attention and Andromeda would have to wait.

"So do you really like them, Vama?"

Draco smile brilliantly. "I do, petal. They're stunning and I will never take them off."

"I'm so glad you like them. I thought you would when I helped Harry pick them out," the girl admitted proudly. She dug in the pocket of her green and white robes and handed over a now-familiar box once she'd found her prize. "Now you'll look a proper vamar," she nodded and watched with happy expectation as Draco quickly opened the lid to remove the single earring with a small bezel-set diamond.

"I suppose I shall." Sie inclined hir head to hir daughter, then tilted to the side, holding the box out to Harry. "Would you?"

Harry kissed the shell of Draco's ear and took the earring between his fingers. "Of course," he said lightly, but it was not lost on anyone that he was about to place a child's birth-ring, an honour _always_ reserved for the second parent. Harry threaded it through easily, just above the spot where Draco sometimes wore hir AFR cuff—the tiny receiver would be worn on hir left ear from now on—and set the small birthstone charm to lay flat. He sat back with a smile. "I think Anna chose well. It's beautiful." Harry added a nod of approval as Anna launched herself onto Draco's lap and brushed her finger carefully over the twinkling charm. As her fingers passed over gem Harry nursed a quiet hope, one set deep in a corner of his heart, that he would again have this honour, that Draco would someday wear a second birth-ring acknowledging another of their children.

"Amazing! Harry, come look!" Draco called from the window with an excited beckoning motion of hir hand as Harry stirred from sleep.

"What is it?" Harry scooted back against the headboard and stretched, bed linens pooling in his lap. He rose and dragged on his bright Cannons dressing gown (a gift from Ron), settling the fuzzy flannel over his shoulders, and took a moment to enjoy the sight of the willowy blond encased in sage brocade. "Beautiful." He whispered his appreciation into Draco's neck as he stepped behind hir and wrapped his arms around hir waist.

"I know," sie answered, awed, completely missing his meaning. "It never snows like this usually, but there it is. The angels are going to have so much fun today."

Harry raised his head and glanced out the window. Snowfall was quite unusual for Wiltshire, but there had been the right conditions for it in the two days since Yule and there was no arguing with the proof outside. The grounds were heavily blanketed with white fluff, glimmering in the weak winter sun. Harry smiled. He didn't need a crystal ball or tea leaves to know a snowball fight was in his near future. But for now he tightened his arms around the triarii, intent on getting them back to bed. "It is lovely, but I didn't mean the snow, sweetheart." He kissed the spot under the mage's ear, then drew the lobe between his teeth, tugging gently on the new piercings, delighting in the shiver elicited by the small motion.

"Harry..." His name was drawn out in protest even as Draco leaned hir head to the side, granting him greater access. "W-we're expected at...H-heritage House in...less than a-an hour," sie finally managed between kisses and the sucking bite Harry left on hir neck.

"Mm-hm." Harry worried the reddened skin more and slipped his hand between the folds of skin-warmed silk to run circles on Draco's firm belly. "'S plenty of time. C'mere." Draco turned within his arms and lifted hir face. Harry wasted no time in claiming the plump pink lips, teasing them open with tiny licks. They parted further on a moan and Harry edged back toward the bed, sure the children wouldn't mind if they were just a little late.

"Vama, Harry? I'm home!" Anna called brightly as she knocked on the door.

_Well, maybe one child would mind._

"Vama?"

Draco drew hir head back, hir mouth red and raw, and wet. "Good morning, petal. We're just getting up." Sie pressed against Harry with a lascivious gleam in hir eye. "In more ways than one," sie murmured, robe a flimsy barrier to the length hardening against hir.

"Stop that," the broader man mouthed, disgruntled because Anna's homecoming meant they really needed to get moving and there wouldn't be time to play after all.

"Vama, should I bring you breakfast?"

"No thank you, petal, but give us some time to bathe and dress. We'll be ready to leave for Heritage House shortly. Do make sure you have everything you'll need, Anna. Mittens, too—it snowed last night, if you haven't already seen; I don't want you catching a chill."

"I did see, vama, isn't it great? Today's going to be wicked fun!" Anna chirped, her voice fading as she headed back down the stairs.

Harry sighed, drawing back his hand with regret. "I suppose those were our marching orders."

He kissed the side of Draco's mouth, struck for a moment that he could. Sie'd almost been lost to him. He remembered the bruise that had been in just this spot not so long ago. The blue and yellow and green marks had faded quickly, but Harry remembered every one. Every appointment with Draco's physical therapist was a reminder, every twinge in hir shoulders or spasm in hir delicate wrists twisted the spike of memory of the violence sie'd survived. And he knew that though it wasn't mentioned by any of them, the shadow of hir ordeal would remain for a long time still. Harry shuddered and tried to shake himself out of his maudlin brooding. These moods came up on him sometimes, randomly filling him with worry over what might have been. It took him a little while to come back to himself and put the fear aside. Today was supposed to be a good day; he didn't want to drag Draco into one of his funks. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said, still somewhat distracted but thinking it would be better if the blond tended to hir morning routine in hir own bathroom.

Draco caught his hands as he pulled away. Too shrewd by half, sie placed their clasped hands over hir beating heart, sensing where Harry's thoughts had gone. "I'm here, love, so stay here with me. Come be with me." Sie tugged him over to the en suite and nipped his ear, coaxing his mood into a lighter, more playful one. "And I happen to know that your shower comfortably accommodates two, though I'll spare you the mortifyingly embarrassing details of how I learned that thanks to Pansy and Blaise... So what say we wash it all away?" Sie said knowingly, then winked at him. "I'll even scrub your back."

It worked; the memories were quickly chased away by thoughts of a wet, soapy triarii, and slowly a wolfish grin made its way onto Harry's face. "Do I get to wash your hair?"

The gleam in hir eyes was sultry as sie turned and slipped off hir dressing gown with one hand, with the other pulling the ribbon that held hir hair back. Shimmering blond cascaded to hir waist as sie sauntered over the threshold into the luxury bath. Harry sucked in a lungful of air; he really loved Draco's hair. _The children are just going to have to wait. All of them. Sorry, Anna,_ he thought, and hurried behind hir.


	24. Chapter 24

**24.**

The Malfoy entourage arrived at Heritage House half an hour later than they were expected, much to the very vocal displeasure of the party's ladies—Anna and Helene were livid about their tardiness, but at least Harry had left the cottage smiling. Now if only he could get that smug smirk off of Draco's face, things would be great. It helped that they'd been forgiven once the crushing hugs and exuberant welcome from the children and staff at Heritage House were received. Harry was pretty sure Anna could care less about having been late when she ran off squealing with Oonagh, Meghan, and her other friends from the orphanage. Meghan, great gingerbread fiend that she was, trailed behind only long enough to hear Helene tell Cook she'd start the baking right away.

Oonagh, Harry knew, had lost her family in an accidental fire the year before, and unlike most secondary school age residents of Heritage House, she attended Hogwarts thanks to a small educational trust provided by a distant aunt in South Africa. The woman hadn't wanted to claim the girl and relinquished guardianship to the DCFWS, but she had provided for the Ravenclaw's schooling. Oonagh had a rough go of it, Draco had explained during one of their Hogwarts visits. The girl had a great fear of rejection, helped in no large part by her aunt's refusal to even see her, but her friendship with Anna and others of the quintet had done wonders to bring her out of her shell following the deaths of her parents and infant brother. It also helped that she'd finally gotten comfortable with other children her age at Heritage House who were also on holiday break from Heritage Academy; it was obvious in how she dragged all of her friends off to play in the snow that she was excited about being able to bring her two worlds together.

"Well, c'mon then, Potter, roll up those sleeves. There'll be no layabouts today." Draco grinned at him, hir eyes twinkling. Sie took off hir own travelling cloak and robes, slipped the fur-lined gloves from hir hands, and laid hir hat on top of the pile, leaving the charmed scarf Harry had given her for Yule wound round hir neck. "Thank you, Milsy." Sie nodded to the house-elf who was nearly hidden beneath the bundle.

Harry kept his winter wear but thanked and dismissed the waiting elf, who bobbed a sketchy bow and popped out of sight, before fussing with Draco's scarf. "I don't want you overdoing it today," he said, a little of his earlier mood colouring his worry. "Even Pomfrey said you should take things slowly these next couple of weeks." Harry kissed hir pert nose when sie frowned.

"Harry—"

"I know you're healed, love, but you could easily strain something, so just let Lars and me handle the heavy lifting and climbing up and down ladders, all right? I worry. Please?"

The mage scowled and pivoted sharply on hir heel to approach a stack of heavy-looking crates. "Draco!" Sie glared at him and snapped hir wand from hir sleeve. With a flick and a swish the crates rose from the ground, hovering in wait for their next direction. With a sweeping mobiliarca, Draco waved them along into the Great Room beside the dining hall. Sie turned to Harry with hir arms crossed over her chest, rolling hir wand between hir thumb and fingers. "I'll thank you to remember that I am a mage, Harry Potter, and a rather competent one at that." Sie tossed the last over hir shoulder as sie followed the boxes through the open doors.

Lars chuckled and slapped Harry's back in sympathy, pitching him forward a step. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Sie does so much manually at home that I forget just how much sie can do with magic sometimes too."

Harry smiled, looking up and up at the man who sometimes reminded him of a great Viking chieftain or something. If it weren't for Lars' colouring and more slender (in comparison) build, Harry might wonder if he and Hagrid didn't share the same giant genes. "I'm not worried. Sie'll gripe for all of a minute before sie gets caught up in something else and it'll all be forgotten. This is a little screw-up. Draco only stays mad at me for big screw-ups."

Lars' booming laughter echoed through the foyer. "You have hir number, all right." The big American nodded with a grin. "Now let's you and I go bring in the trees. You can do plenty of your own wand-waving then. Took me all damn day to bring them in last year, even with help from the older ones."

The two men trudged back out into the snow, saws in hand, and were quickly joined by several boys and girls from the Academy who were either residents of Heritage House or hadn't been able to go home for the hols. The trek to the evergreen glade of the estate gardens took some time since now and again impromptu snowball fights would break out between the volunteers. Eventually they chose five large trees, and started hacking away. Lars explained that severing charms couldn't be used to fell the trees, since using magic on the trunks disrupted their regeneration. Left on their own the stumps would experience the growth of a full year every month. The small glade was self-sustaining and renewing; the Malfoys had relied on it to provide greenery for Yule and Christmas for many generations.

Bringing the trees down proved to be back-breaking work; more than once Harry stopped to wonder how much effort had gone into making Christmases at Hogwarts so spectacular. He wondered what the school did now that their half-giant groundskeeper had gone to France with Madame Maxime after the war. Hagrid had always given so much to the preparations, wanting to add to the wonder of the holiday season for everyone, especially the youngest students. He would've loved to be a part of these preparations too; Harry could imagine that the children of Heritage House would be just as enamoured of these towering trees as he had been during Christmas at Hogwarts. _'Course with his strength Hagrid would've had these down and back to the day room way faster than us._ Harry grimaced as the third tree fell. His arms were burning something fierce now and his back was just about to put in notice.

"Oi, Lars! D'you think they'd mind if we only came back with only three?" Harry panted and wiped his sweaty fringe from his face.

"You'll be taking your life in your own hands, son. But you're a braver man than me if you're willing to face Helene, Marie, and Draco with less than five. It's not too bad, Harry. We've only got one to go; the kids are actually working on that one over there." He pointed to a group of youngsters nearly midway though a fourth tree. The teens were laughing, joking, taking turns with the saw, and chasing each other around the glade, so it was taking them much longer than it needed to, but one tree less was one tree less for him and Lars. Harry grinned at their cheer, but it quickly became a groan when Lars nodded toward the last tree, they'd picked it out for the centre of the great room, and it was massive. Getting through the trunk was going to take them 'til lunch!

Truly, lunch was nearly over by the time the trees were finally set up in the Great Room. The tired and ravenous wizards and witches slogged into a dining hall still resplendent with Yule decorations. Here the evergreen boughs were speckled with berries: red holly and white mistletoe; red ribbons festooned the wreaths, and magical spheres rather than glass baubles hung down from the branches. Embers from the Yule log still glowed in the special brazier set up for the celebrations, and the scent of balsam clung to the air.

Draco rolled hir eyes but smiled, bemused, when Harry plopped down and loaded a second heaping portion onto hir plate, then piled a mountain of food on his own. "I don't know how you expect us to fit through the doors if we eat all this."

It was Anna's turn to roll her eyes. Draco made a mental note to watch how frequently sie used that expression and in whose company. "Nonsense, vama. You hardly ate anything before Harry came in. Besides, we could fit ten of you side to side through the doors and still have room because Nana Narcissa charmed them to expand, remember? You told me she fixed it for Uncle Regulus' Coming of Age ball because she thought Great-Grandmother Walburga wouldn't fit hir ego through otherwise."

Pumpkin juice shot through Harry's nose as he laughed. A quick Scourgify later he was stammering his apologies, but really, if Walburga's portrait was anything to go by, Narcissa Malfoy probably had a point in widening the doors. Walburga Black was larger than life even in death, and Harry had no qualms about saying so.

"Yes, well...Great Aunt Walburga's opinions were rather inflated in most things," Draco opined. Anna, however, was puzzled.

"Did you know her, Harry?"

He shook his head. "No, just her portrait. It used to hang in my house—terrible nuisance, she was."

"Really? Why was there a portrait of Great-Grandmother in your house? Was she friends with your grandparents?" Anna was, as always, curious about members of her family, even the annoying ones like Walburga Black.

"Oh no, at least I don't think so. I very much doubt she'd have got along with my family. But my house—well, technically I suppose it's probably your house now, but your father willed it to me—"

Draco swallowed quickly. "Grimmauld Place? The Black manor still stands, really?"

"I suppose so, unless something's happened to it in the last few weeks. I haven't been there much lately." Harry smiled, though he didn't understand Draco's sudden interest or excitement.

"That's fantastic! Harry, can we go there? Soon? I mean, would you mind?"

"Of course I wouldn't; maybe on Boxing Day? But what's the fuss? I mean, it's not like what Andromeda was telling us about at all. I've fixed it up a bit since the war, but it's nothing special really."

Draco thumped back in hir seat. "What's the fuss, he says? Nothing special, he says," sie grumbled, then fixed him with a glare. "Harry, Ophiuchus Black was _the_ most skilled potions brewer of his time, a first rate Master. Merlin, if his personal journals survived can you imagine what we might learn? What we could adapt to further potions craft, magical medical science...anything, really. His techniques were beyond innovative. Even today we're still trying to replicate some of his original ideas without success. And the things he thought to combine—his raw notes would be just…plus his Dark Arts library is legendary. Even Lucius was never sure which volumes were in it, but he coveted it as a as a collector. Among other things," sie added darkly.

"Vama, why would you want to go to a Dark Arts library? Aren't they bad?"

Draco's response was considered; sie steepled hir fingers and regarded hir daughter, and the other children listening with interest, carefully. "For the most part the Dark Arts are used to further Dark ends, but like any magic they may be used for good or evil. The intent and purpose are what matter most; however, that distinction is rarely made, which is why they are not taught at Hogwarts. There is also the concern that if taught, the young might be too easily tempted to misuse the Dark Arts."

"Are they taught at Heritage Academy?" Harry asked, concerned, thinking about the numbers of Death Eaters that had been recruited from Durmstrang, where the Dark Arts were taught freely.

"To a limited degree in advanced seventh year seminar—which, I might add," sie shot Harry a pointed look, "is closely monitored by the Ministry. At Heritage Academy the approach is different because the Directors and Headmaster agree that without the mystique of the forbidden, very few choose to concern themselves with Dark magic beyond the usual protections against it. It's when they're left as something mysterious and taboo that it becomes more likely that young adults will go chasing after greater and more dangerous knowledge, lured by the thrill of the unknown, and wind up causing more trouble than they really meant to."

That was an interesting approach, one he'd have to consider carefully, maybe even suggest to McGonagall as a subject for one of the new town hall debates at Hogwarts. For now, though, Harry was much more interested in the huge bowls of frosting and large trays of gingerbread floating in from the kitchens.

"Is that—?" Trust Meghan to snap to attention as the distinctive smell drifted through the room.

"Just a moment, Meghan." Draco reached out and stilled the girl, who looked about ready to bolt from her seat. "I believe Madame Marie has something to share."

Indeed she did. The orphanage's director clapped twice for everyone's attention and announced that a "snow fort war", children versus adults, would commence on the front lawn immediately following lunch. The decree was met with a loud cheer, and Harry spotted several of the older students, no doubt in a hurry to make their way outside, hurriedly shovelling the remainder of their steak and kidney pie into mouths already furiously working against stuffed cheeks.

"But—but what about the gingerbread?" Meghan asked plaintively.

"Really, Meggy, can you think of nothing else? The gingerbread is cooling so we can build houses when we come inside," Oonagh scolded.

"We'll decorate them with all sorts of sweets from Honeydukes. And we'll make popcorn garland for the trees, and that's when you can have as much as you want to eat," Anna added, then turned back to Draco. "Vama, will you teach me the spell to make the Bertie Botts beans light up like Muggle fairy lights this year? I'm old enough to do it myself now."

"Of course, petal," Sie nodded indulgently. "Now all of you go get bundled up." Draco shooed away the children at their table. "And Meghan, no doubling back for a taste of gingerbread. I happen to know Cook and Fitzy will be guarding the cooling racks while we're outside. Now scoot." Sie waved hir hands at the wrist as Harry pulled hir to his side.

"You know that warning isn't likely to do much good."

"I reckon not, but the Instant Bellyache hex I put up to ward the cooling racks will."

"Draco, that's awful!" Harry chuckled and kissed hir temple, combing his hands through hir fine hair, glad that sie'd pulled it into a casual ponytail instead of plaiting it today.

"No, it's a lesson in patience and moderation, one I'm sure her parents will thank me for eventually. Merlin, Potter, every knut of that girl's allowance goes to Honeyduke's owl-order... But enough of Meghan Collier and her endless sweet tooth. Are you ready to be trounced, Potter?"

Dark brows furrowed. "You think the children will win?"

"No, of course not, but I thought you'd have a better shot with those of similar mental age."

Harry gawped and poked hir side. "A similar mental age!" He shook his head. "You'll pay for that, Malfoy. And you know...just because you're such a wanker I think I will play for the children's team, so there!" Harry stuck out his tongue.

The Auror was true to his word and pelted his lover every chance he got from the children's side of the expansive front lawn. He and the kids too old for the nursery had a blast ducking behind their snow fort to doge the incoming "snow bombs" preferred by the adults. Since the objective was to capture the other team's flag, the children had the advantage of speed and sent lots of runners in their first offensive waves so those with steadier hands and wands could focus on launching their snowballs and gaining ground on the adults' fort.

Harry took stock of his entrenched troops and gauged the distance between them and the adult fort, its green flag snapping merrily in a conjured wind. A quick look back at the children's fort showed it was still secure, defended by a few teens left behind to guard their red flag. His little ones were determined, and chomping at the bit. _You're about to find out just how "angelic" they really are, Malfoy. You'd have been better off building snowmen with the ones from the nursery._ He nodded the go-ahead for the attack and a horde of screaming children charged the adults.

Draco, for one, was quick with hir wand, launching a barrage of snowballs at the intruders. Others didn't fare so well; Marie, on patrol in front of the fort, was quickly taken down, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. And the children were quick to retaliate against Draco and the surviving adults. They had set the youngest ones to work in the trench Harry built for them and eager to do their part in overthrowing the adults, they'd packed a mountain of snowballs by the time the older ones reached the adults' first wall. Dozens of young voices called out "_Accio_ snowballs!" and heaped the two Resident Guardians who had manned the adult fort's first defence. Roaring children stormed the fort and it quickly turned into a free-for-all melee, most forgoing snowballs to just dump snow and slush on the adults by the mitten-full.

Harry had his sights set on a certain triarii who was busy keeping the marauding children at bay with a miniature whirlwind that scooped up their snowballs and flung them back. He _was_ glad to see sie was being careful of hir shoulders and wrists, but with the bank of soft snow piled behind hir really sie was just too tempting a target. With a whoop Harry barrelled into hir knees, tackling hir into the drift. His triumphant howl was echoed a moment later and both wizard and mage lifted their heads to see a joyous five-year-old perched atop a young teen's shoulders, frantically waving the green flag. "Looks like your forces have been defeated. Surrender, Malfoy." Harry smiled wickedly, his green eyes twinkling with mirth.

"You first, Potter," Draco sneered, defiant to the last. With a wriggle and twist sie flipped them both over. "Hah!" sie crowed. "Now do you yield?"

Stubbornly Harry bit his lip. Draco arched an eyebrow at his silence. The downed man bucked but not before the triarii smushed a palm full of snow in his face. "Pffth-pptt-pptth...Draco, that's cold!"

The blond rolled away, laughing. "I guess that's 'first blood' to me, then," sie said smugly.

"Prat!" Harry leapt after the mage, bent on retaliation. The two tussled, scooping snow at each other and rolling back and forth. They landed with Harry on top, but he quickly shifted his weight as his lover grimaced. "Sweetheart?"

"It's fine, Harry, just a twinge really," sie answered, her voice strained.

"Fuck! Love, I am so sorry. Here, let me help you up and we'll go in. Merlin, I'm such an idiot." Instantly solicitous and worried about the joint that was responding more slowly to therapy than it should be, Harry scurried to his knees and leaned over the stricken mage to help hir up. He was so busy berating himself that he didn't notice the evil gleam in hir eyes or the emerging smirk. He _did_ notice the cold lump of snow that slid under his scarf and collar. "Draco!" he shrieked, squirming as the cold trickle melted down his back. "You faker! You—you—"

"Slytherin?" the triarii said slyly, and gracefully rose to hir feet, brushing snow from hir cloak as Harry fumed.

"You are in _so_ much trouble, Malfoy," he growled, stalking toward his beguiling prey.

"Have to catch me first, Potter." And with a muffled crack sie disappeared, leaving Harry, not yet keyed to the staff or volunteer wards, to trudge over the ravaged lawn alone, cursing sneaky Slytherins as he went.

When he finally made it to the Great room most everyone was happily munching and sticking pieces of gingerbread together. One ambitious group was attempting a replica of Heritage Academy with a few of the adult volunteers helping the complicated structure along. Resident Guardians, staff who lived at the orphanage to monitor and protect the children, were keeping a close watch over the nursery group, the infants to four-year-olds, who'd made snow angels and snowmen while the older children wreaked havoc on the adults and the lawn. Harry was weighing Helene's, Cook's, and Marie's probable wrath against the satisfaction of tipping a bowl of frosting over Draco's head when a mug of steaming hot chocolate appeared in front of him. "I've had such an ear-bashing from Anna. She says you'd be well within your rights to tar and feather me with frosting and chocolate bark, so I thought a peace offering might be in order."

Twinkling green eyes belied Harry's slight scowl. "With brandy?"

"Just the way you like it," the mage nodded. "Truce?"

Harry took the floating mug in hand and gathered hir close with the other. "You know I can't stay mad at you," he sighed. "But that was a pretty underhanded stunt you pulled, playing on my worries like that." The words were spoken lightly, but the slight tremble in his arms spoke to his real fear and depth of disappointment. "Fake whinging, that I'd expect, but not—you know how much I..."

Draco leaned up and kissed his cheek, truly remorseful. Sie should have known Harry couldn't joke or be playful about hir injuries this soon after what happened, maybe not ever. The horror he felt at their cause was still too raw, cut too deeply. "I do know." Sie turned and held his face between hir palms. "I am sorry, Harry, I hadn't thought about it like that." The shoulder in question rolled up in a shrug. "Slytherin guile and all that, but I _should_ have known better. I didn't mean to worry you, or spoil your fun."

Harry kissed hir nose, a benediction of forgiveness and a sign that his mood hadn't turned to the brooding ill-humour he'd experienced that morning. "Victory by trickery—yes, I seem to remember something like that from our time at Hogwarts." Draco stepped back and Harry had a sip of his hot chocolate. The mage took up his free hand and kissed it, then led Harry to the low table where Anna, Oonagh, Meghan, and a couple of boys he didn't know by name were working on a three-sided gingerbread cottage. They'd made good use of a row of peppermint sticks to bear the weight of the roof, but Harry wasn't convinced the whole thing wouldn't collapse in another minute.

Draco chortled at his unvoiced question. "Really, need you ask—Meghan got to the pieces before the others could stop her. If I'm remembering rightly that glob of overlarge icicles on the other side is hiding a bite mark."

Harry shook his head; the girl was a menace. "I take back what I said before." He chuckled. "And maybe you were a little hasty lifting that Bellyache hex."

"Oh, don't I know."

The two knelt and helped the children finish their assembly. Draco showed them all the blinking beans spell and they ran off to perform the charm on other houses as the "glue" on theirs set. When all the gingerbread houses, cottages, and schools were finished and displayed proudly around the room, the crates Draco levitated earlier were opened and clusters of excited children began to hand out ornaments to decorate the trees that stood in each of the room's corners. Lars' great height proved very useful to the children, who climbed on his back and shoulders to reach the uppermost boughs, especially the ones too young for wands that couldn't levitate their ornaments into place.

It was a wonderful time and when they'd finished the trees were beautiful, all ribbons and shimmering glass and fragrant fluffy popcorn and paper chains. Harry stood back and admired the handiwork of each of them as twinkling fairies played between the boughs. It had been a perfect way to spend Christmas Eve day, and again Harry was thankful he'd been made part of so many wonderful traditions. His smile was joyous and serene as he walked hand-in-hand with Draco and Anna back to the dining hall for yet another lavish supper. At this rate he was sure to gain two stone by the time New Year's rolled in!

Then again, he hadn't run around so much since his Auror Academy days. Keeping up with children hopped up on sugary treats was hard work. And tonight he'd be at it again. There were stories and carols planned for after supper and every child would have a gift to open before being shuttled off to bed—if the adults were able to catch them all. Marie had warned him about bedtime and it sounded like he wasn't the only one in for a struggle. He didn't even want to think about what it would take to wrangle Meghan into the Floo to go back to her parents. Harry was feeling quite a bit of sympathy for the staff, who would have only a few hours before facing the mayhem their charges were bound to cause on Christmas morning as they opened their presents and got ready for the Children's Party, the hours of dancing, games, songs, and stories that would fill their day before a huge feast that sounded as though Harry should be wondering whether Cook was somehow related to Mum Weasley.

He was actually quite looking forward to the more sedate pace of Christmas Day at the cottage. Anna was a dynamo, but there was only one of her; and though she'd decided to pass on the Children's Party this year, she'd be busy for much of the day chopping, stirring, kneading, and whatever else it took to assemble their own dinner, which the Malfoys always prepared with their own hands. Draco told him it was the only time sie'd ever seen hir mother in the kitchen.


	25. Chapter 25

**25.**

Harry found himself as excited as any of the holy terrors, otherwise known Draco's Heritage House angels, when he woke on Christmas morning. _They definitely put me through my paces._ He yawned wide and stretched, excited by the prospect of spending the day with Draco and Anna, but surprised to find himself alone in his room. He and Draco had not passed a night or morning out of each other's company since Yule, and though it had only been a few days Harry was already addicted to the habit. Puzzled by his lover's absence, he started to get up but hadn't gotten further than pushing the duvet back before a blonde blur came barrelling through the door and knocked the wind out of him.

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

"Happy Christmas, petal." He laughed and gathered her up in a giant hug.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Draco greeted more sedately; a large breakfast tray floating behind hir.

The bed's occupants scooted over to make room as sie sat, though Anna had to scramble over Harry to get her preferred spot in the middle. "Me and vama always have Christmas breakfast together in bed so Aunty and Uncle can have 'alone time'." The girl rolled her large grey eyes in the manner of all put-upon eleven-year-olds. "They're always so smoochy on Christmas Day," she complained and snagged a small bowl of porridge from the tray.

"Today is Lars and Helene's wedding anniversary," Draco explained and tugged hir daughter's pigtails in reproach. "And it's no business of yours what they get up to in order to celebrate it, miss."

Anna pouted but drew the spoon from her mouth. "Yes, mer," she sighed meekly. But seconds later she was tossing a suspicious look between the adults through narrowed eyes. "You and Harry aren't going to be all smoochy today too, are you?"

"I don't know, petal, we might," Harry teased with a smile. "There is an awful lot of mistletoe still hanging downstairs. What d'you say, sweetheart, shall we be smoochy today too?" He leaned sideways and met Draco over Anna's head for a quick kiss.

"Eww!" She scrunched her nose and shouldered them apart. Anna thrust another bowl into Harry's hands. "Mouths are for eating and talking," she said primly, "not snogging all over the place. Gross."

Her vamar chuckled and lifted the last bowl from the tray. "Harry and I disagree, Anna, but with your delicate sensibilities in mind I think we'll likely refrain from 'snogging all over the place', as you so succinctly put it."

The three finished their porridge and enjoyed one of Helene's specialties—overnight pecan toast, a staple of Christmas mornings in the Duquesne household, helped along by the gift of Georgian pecans Helene's sister sent each winter. They talked over their plans for the day and Anna made outrageous guesses as to the contents of the many bundles under their Christmas tree. She'd bet Julian's portrait that the long, narrow box from Harry was a new racing broom, but when asked Harry wouldn't answer beyond a mischievous smile and "You'll have to wait and see."

Some of the wrapped parcels were expected. Harry reached for a familiar looking squashy bundle first and unveiled his newest Weasley jumper. This one was navy with bands of deep maroon around the neck and wrists. He pulled it on over his tee and smoothed it down lovingly, explaining that Mum Weasley had made him one every Christmas since he was eleven. Anna thought it a smashing idea and promised everyone a "Malfoy jumper" next year if Helene would teach her how to knit. After a long round of laughter, he opened _Captain, My Captain: A Treatise on Command Strategies and Management Techniques_ from Hermione, and a pair of tickets to the first Cannons game of next season from Ron. The couple still bought separate gifts for their friends and families since they could never agree and bickered horribly when trying to select a single joint gift. There was a box of questionable-looking sweets Fred and George, along with a copy of his annual shareholder's statement since Harry always refused owls from the twins' accountant.

Lars had whittled him unanimated chess pieces for Yule, so his Christmas gift was a chess board of oak and birch to complete the set. Helene's present was a bound volume of the complete works of Ameinias, and Harry made sure to ask where he could find another copy. He planned on sending it to the Hogwarts library.

Blaise and Pansy's gifts were light-hearted, yet luxurious, the sort of thing he was learning to expect from the wealthy couple and their quirky sense of humour. There was a bottle of Tiamat Hubur's shark and sea-serpent repellent, a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_, and a voucher for a week's stay at an exclusive Wizarding retreat on Kosi Bay in KwaZulu-Natal. A blurb in the posh hotel's glossy brochure mentioned the variety of sea life, including sharks. Harry was amused and showed the brochure to Draco, determined that this year he would actually use his holiday leave.

And he received a joint gift from Draco and Anna. The child of his heart handed it over solemnly and watched warily as he opened it. There was a book and a Gringott's key. Harry's stomach lurched as he read the card tucked between the book's endplates, penned in her childish hand:

_For Harry, because everyone should know where they come from. Happy Christmas from Draco and Anna Malfoy_

_L__æ__denbóc Primarius_ the gold-embossed title read on the worn leather cover above the Potter family crest. He'd heard of these journals, of course—who hadn't?—but mostly they were hidden away in family libraries. It was said that every pure-blood family had one, passed down from eldest son to eldest son through the generations. When Harry spared it any thought, he had supposed the Potter volume was destroyed at when his parents were killed. But here it was. He had no idea how the Malfoys had found it but he'd never be able to thank them enough.

He opened the heavy tome, its ancient pages smooth and fragile against his fingertips. The Potter lædenbóc was more than just a record of the family genealogy; it held spells, rituals, potions, even reflections and observations from the Head of Family for each generation. He turned as quickly as he dared to the last pages, where his own father had recorded his marriage to Lily Evans and the birth of their son, Harold James Potter. He'd even started to trace his wife's family tree. It went back four generations.

"How did you…Merlin's sake, where did you—?"

"As it turns out, Potter memorabilia and ephemera are highly collectible," Draco hedged, looking pained and a little embarrassed. "There's a...network of people rather obsessed with claiming pieces of the Potter legacy for themselves. When I realised just how little you had of theirs, especially things that are important—well, I went a bit mad." Draco blushed and Harry looked to Anna for specifics.

The girl giggled. "Vama has single-handedly put the Potter Commemoratives Society out of business."

Harry's eyes grew wide as saucers. "The what?"

"Potter Commemoratives Society," the mage grumbled. "Don't ask, please. But aside from a few items whose provenance was questionable, all that has survived of the Potter estate, or what we could find of it, is now in that vault. It belongs to you, Harry. Always has. No one had the right to keep it from you."

Technically it wasn't snogging all over the place, so Anna really had no cause to complain, but Harry had no idea how else to express what he was feeling. He grabbed Draco by the shoulders and devoured hir, pouring every ounce of the love, overwhelming thankfulness, and appreciation he felt into their kiss. Draco met him strength for strength; enflamed him with passion; gentled him with understanding, and when they finally broke apart to find Anna had stormed off to the kitchen in a huff sie drew his head to hir breast, carded hir fingers through his hair, kissed anywhere sie could reach, and let him cry.

When the silent tears had dried and the rest of the family had made their way back from the kitchen (Harry saw Julian peeking around his frame and knew the painted messenger must have given the all-clear), they finished opening the rest of their presents.

Julian howled with laughter and rolled on the floor of his portrait, clutching his sides, when Anna opened the box from Harry. Inside the crate from Quality Quidditch Supplies was a long, shallow tray settled over a misleading weighted bottom; an assortment of ribbons, hair bobs, and headbands were scattered throughout.

"Harry!"

He couldn't help but laugh at her consternation. "I'm not that cruel, petal. Keep looking," he said, finally relenting.

She fell upon the tray again, digging through the hair ornaments, then with a gleeful shout held aloft a rectangular certificate.

"First years at Hogwarts aren't permitted their own brooms," he explained as she hugged him. "But when we go for your supplies next summer you may use that to select a broom of your choice. Within reason," he added in response to Draco's discreet cough.

"Oh, thank you, Harry! Thank you! Thank you!"

He smiled at her effusive gratitude and again when she turned to poke her tongue out at Julian.

Harry's gift to Anna was the last to be opened, so after they cleared out the mess of shredded paper and spellotape they headed to the kitchen, where Draco had already laid out hir preparations for Christmas dinner.

It was a menu suited to any fancy dinner at Malfoy Manor during hir mother's heyday as pure-blood society's premier hostess. Narcissa Malfoy would have been quite proud of the spread laid out nearly four hours later. While Draco added the final touches, Lars cleared space in the living room for a dining table and chairs brought up from the cellar. Helene draped the table with antique linens from her trousseau, gifts from her mother and aunts who, despite the dim view held of her marriage, still had certain expectations to meet that were demanded of their class. Each place was set with crystal goblets, and chargers paired with delicate silver-rimmed china plates stamped with the Malfoy crest. Dainty silver salt cellars and miniature peppermills were placed before each setting, along with a variety of forks, spoons, and picks. Thankfully Harry had been through a crash course in comportment during state dinners at the end of the war, so he actually knew what all the utensils were for. In the end dinner was excellent, and Harry happily stuffed himself, though he did leave a little room for dessert.

Contrary to popular belief, the Malfoys were as staunchly British as they come. Despite the French origins of the family name, it was through the Black line that Draco received hir French heritage. Hir grandmother, Marie-Élise Black (née Lefèvre), had carefully schooled her daughters in the creation of the traditional Bûche de Noël. The recipe for the Génoise cake was a closely guarded Lefèvre secret and Draco had actually chased Helene out of the kitchen while sie and Anna prepared the batter for the rolled cake. Not even the Malfoy elves had been allowed in the kitchen when Narcissa was baking, and Draco wasn't about to break the tradition. Word had it that hir great-great-great-great-grandmother had actually cursed the recipe so that should anyone outside the family be told the secret, both the culinary traitor and covetous listener would lose all sense of taste and smell. The mage wasn't taking any chances with hir friend. The Lefèvres, like the Malfoys and Blacks, were Dark Arts practitioners renowned for taking offence at the slightest thing, and for powerful vengeance curses.

Once the table was cleared, and Anna carried in the Yule Log confection complete with a its dark chocolate buttercream "bark," decorated with marzipan mushrooms and sprigs of fondant mistletoe. "Vama let me help with everything this year. Before I only got to stir the batter and lick the frosting knife," she said as she gingerly placed the marble cake board on the table.

Lars and Helene announced they were going to take a walk in the snow, and even if their Resonance hadn't been thrumming through him like a low-level electrical current Harry would have known something was afoot by Anna's attempts at surreptitious glances towards her vama. He shrugged out of his robe and sat patiently waiting for whatever was to come.

It wasn't a long wait; the older couple had barely shut the door behind them when Draco went to hir knee beside Harry's chair. "Anna and I have something for you—another gift, of sorts."

Sie reached into hir breast pocket and withdrew a hinged velvet box. With Anna's small hand wrapped around hir own, they opened the lid to reveal a golden band. "Harry," Anna began solemnly, the tremor in her voice mirrored in both Malfoys' trembling hands, "vamar and I wanted to give you family for Christmas. That's part of why we wanted you to have your things from the Potters back, but—" She inhaled deeply, trying hard to calm her breathing. "But—"

Draco raised hir free hand to smooth circles on Anna's back as the little girl drew her lip between her teeth, and took over from where she'd left off. "But we also wanted you to understand that we know your past and your present, and that we want to grow with you into who we'll all be in the future." Hir voice was raw, almost afraid. It seemed the air in the room was suddenly too heavy to breathe, and Draco struggled to draw air into hir lungs, but Anna had been steadied, bolstered by the reprieve.

"Vamar and I would be honoured if you would join our family. Harry Potter, will you marry us?"

Harry hadn't thought he could run such an emotional gamut as he had today. He certainly hadn't thought the day could hold another surprise as poignant as the Potter lædenbóc...but he'd been wrong. And as his eyes again filled with tears, one thought pounded in his head, around his heart, echoed in his soul: _Yes Yes YES_. "Yes."

When the Raeders returned Harry had a lapful of sniffling, teary Malfoys. Helene rushed over first, arms outstretched as if ready to pat them down for injuries. "By Merlin, are you all right? Draco, Anna, Harry, are you okay?"

"We're great," Harry answered before wiping his eyes against Draco's robe. He held out his hand proudly, the golden band gleaming on his finger. "We're getting married. We're going to be a family."

"Oh, oh!" Helene's hands fluttered at them, then flew up to her face and pressed against her smiling mouth and back down to her chest and out to her sides again, as though they couldn't decide where they needed to be or what they should be doing. "I was so sure you were going to chicken out, Draco. Oh, oh, this is so—, I—I don't know what to say! Oh, um...Lars?"

Her husband came up behind her, smiling. "Congratulations," he said simply. "I'm very happy for all of you."

"Yes, yes, that." Helene's auburn curls bounced as she nodded. "Congratulations! Oh, I'm so...so happy for you! I think I'm fixin' to cry!"

Draco was unnerved. "Helene, are you all right? You knew this was coming; you weren't like this at Yule."

"Oh, I know, but this is different. I mean Yule—well, I thought you'd be getting to this point eventually, soonish, but you know, not four days later! This is—" She turned to her husband with a wide grin. "I love weddings! Merlin, I'm so happy! And we're the first to know and on our anniversary, too! I'm so proud of you!" The suddenly hyperkinetic woman covered all three of them in kisses, then whirled off toward the kitchen. "We need a toast. That sherry from Beth Anne is just the thing..."

Harry was struck viscerally by a sensory memory of Professor Trelawney and the smell of stale sherry and incense that clung to her. "No sh—"

"—erry!" Draco called out too. Sie shared a look with Harry, who mouthed the Divination Professor's name. Sie nodded, having had the same thought. "There's champagne, Helene. Break out the bottle and even Anna can have a glass."

"I can?"

"It's a special occasion. It's not every day you can celebrate adding a father to the family."

Anna smiled and wiped her reddened nose with her sleeve. Draco grimaced at the motion and she shrugged, then cuddled closer, quite content to be sandwiched between them. "Congratulations to us; and Happy Christmas." Her voice was muffled against Harry's shirt.

"The best one I've ever had," Harry said, then kissed Draco softly.

They separated as Anna complained about smoochiness and accepted a flute filled a quarter of the way with champagne from Lars. "To my Dad-to-be and my vama." She raised her glass as she'd seen done during Yule. "Umm...may you have the happily-ever-afters just like in the storybooks, but without all the gross snogging!"

Harry choked on his laughter as Lars saved the toast, raising his glass. "To happily-ever-afters!"

"Hear, hear!" Helene lifted her flute and smiled as Anna sneezed.

"It's very bubbly and makes my nose itch, but in a good way. I think I like it."

"Hmm. Well, for now, why don't you stick with hot chocolate?" Draco kissed her cheek and lowered her to stand. "In fact, I think we've all had enough time to digest, so who would like a slice of cake?"

The usual arrangement of the living room was restored and slices of rich Bûche de Noël were served with coffee for the adults and hot chocolate for Anna. Excitement for the future simmered in all of them, but it had been a long day, if a fantastic one, and talk was staid, easy.

Harry reminded Draco and Anna that they'd visit Grimmauld Place tomorrow. Really, it was past time he checked on his house. The old pile had never really been a home to him and he hadn't spent much time there at all since the task force had been formed, but even before the case began he'd considered it more a place to store his clothes and catch a nap between shifts than somewhere he actually lived. He'd never entertained there, and from the end of the war, once the Order of the Phoenix was disbanded very few visited him there. He wondered what the Malfoys would make of it, and if Draco would have suggestions for what to do with it, since he did have a home now. Wherever Draco was, that was where Harry would lay his head.

He'd also have to make an appearance at the Burrow soon. He'd been asked to spend Christmas with the Weasleys and had declined the invitation, though unlike past years it wasn't because he was working overtime, covering shifts for Aurors with families so they could enjoy their holidays. Harry knew Mum Weasley especially had been disappointed, but he was sure he'd be forgiven once he shared the news of his engagement. Molly loved weddings, she was very like Helene that way, and she'd be tickled that another of her boys was finally getting married. He'd made a little wager against himself that Molly's reaction would be like Helene's too, all astonishment and happy tears. It wasn't often that Molly Weasley was rendered speechless.

Harry was sort of looking forward to that bit of fun, though if he couldn't manage a visit before the New Year he'd at least get to see the whole clan on Twelfth Night. That feast day was a newer tradition for the Weasleys, incorporated because Percy's long-time girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, had been raised with the it as the close of the winter festivals; and since her family had moved to America to escape the war Molly was determined she not lose out on the familiar ritual. Twelfth Night was now another annual Weasley family celebration. But that was days away, and for now he had a dozy daughter to put to bed—and his betrothed had plans for them upstairs it seemed, if the sensuous lustre in hir eyes and the shift from casual to teasing touch was any indication. As Helene and Lars bid them all good night, Harry offered them distracted thanks and a belated congratulations on their anniversary. He was suddenly anxious to be with Draco in the privacy of his bedroom, or hirs.

Things moved quickly once they'd reached an agreement. Nothing needed to be spoken; they each just moved through their routines in sync as though shutting up the cottage for the night had been their habit for years. Together they made their way up the narrow staircase, Anna asleep in Draco's arms. Harry pushed open the door to her room and turned down the bed so Draco could lay her down. With a wave of hir wand the little girl was dressed in her favourite Moon Frog nightgown; Harry thought the pink-and-lilac tartan was ridiculously twee, but Anna loved it. He was sure McGonagall hadn't seen the design or the proud witch would likely have transfigured Lavender into a pygmy puff plushy and used her as a cat toy by now.

Wandlessly he lit the candle on the nightstand; its small flame cast a warm glow around the room. While Anna wasn't exactly afraid of the dark, she did have nightmares sometimes, and waking to light rather than the unknown in the dark helped her overcome anxiety and return to sleep. With their girl safely and comfortably bedded down, Draco took Harry's hand and led hir fiancé to hir bedroom.

Beside the bed Draco smoothed hir hands over Harry's chest, holding his eyes with a gaze of heated longing and desire. "You're truly mine now," sie said, awed as sie unbuttoned his shirt and slid it from his shoulders.

"Was there any doubt?" he asked as the mage pressed hir nose against his bared sternum and exhaled sharply as sie trailed hir fingers lightly down his bicep, then spread hir flattened palms flat against his chest. The subtle pressure aroused him further, quickening his breath and coaxing sweat from his tensing body.

"No. But it's real now in a way I hadn't dared hoped for—you're wearing my ring, Harry," sie said, kneading his firm pectoral muscles. "It's there for anyone to see...you're mine." Draco leaned into him and inhaled deeply, drawing in Harry's scent as though committing the strong, earthy notes to memory. Sie breathed in and out again...slowly, as though what sie smelled inflamed and tempted hir; it likely did, Harry thought, feeling Draco harden further against him.

"I am. And proud to be, Draco," he assured hir and caught his breath as those wicked, clever fingers plucked at his nipples. "But you're mine as well."

"Yes...yes, yours," sie murmured, closing hir eyes and pressing hir face against his chest, drawing hir mouth blindly across the flushed skin and rooting around for the taut flesh sie'd fingered erect.

"Harry. Gods, Harry..." Draco breathed, the whisper dewy against Harry's flesh.

Harry moaned softly, tugging at the back of Draco's robe. He couldn't go another minute, another second with anything between them. He wanted—needed—them, skin on skin, to draw hir against him and say to hir with his body all that he'd never find the words to say aloud.

He tumbled them onto the bed, his broad, blunt hands fumbling over clasps and buttons, unsteadily pushing and pulling fine cotton and velvet down and off of them both and flinging the pieces away to reveal their long-awaited prize. Draco's lungs pumped like a bellows when Harry finally bared them to each other. Sie had thrown hir head back to reveal the long column of hir throat, and taking hir up on the implied invitation, Harry mauled the triarii's neck with wet, biting kisses. If marring alabaster was sacrilege then he wilfully proclaimed himself a heretic and worried hir flesh, and claimed the knowledge of hir abandon with feral pride.

Draco raked hir nails down Harry's back, carving hir own mark into his skin as sie groaned hir need and pleasure. Harry answered hir submission by raising his mouth to swallow it down in a kiss that ignited the fire in their blood, setting explosions of sensation rippling along every surface of their bodies.

Harry tore his mouth away when he remembered the need for air and rolled to the side, reaching for his wand in the groove atop the bedside table. He caught the hitch in Draco's breath and stilled when he heard hir growl, "Don't move."

Harry was stretched out in an awkward position, so he looked questioningly over his shoulder to find Draco hungrily intent on his exposed buttocks.

"So fucking beautiful," sie purred, hir voice smooth and low.

Harry inched over and lay prone as the mage dropped kisses along his muscled back and sides. He jerked when sie licked a broad swath down his spine, hir saliva a cool contrast to the sweat beading on his skin.

"Mine." Draco kneaded his arse, fingers dipping into the crease as Harry writhed. Without warning or hesitation sie spread the rounded cheeks apart and ducked hir head to swipe hir tongue over the portal to Harry's body.

Harry cried out as sie lapped broadly over his anus and reared back when hir tongue's tip darted around his pulsing hole. "Draco...gods, please!"

Sie paid him no mind, continuing at hir leisure and alternating between heavy broad swipes, fluttering the pointed muscle against his entrance, probing his channel with a nearly prehensile tongue, and latching onto the clenching ring with hir lips. When Harry was little more than an insensate mass of taut, aching desire, Draco summoned hir wand and coated hir long, nimble fingers with a thin but viscous liquid. Sie drew hir fingers over and around the spasming pucker, then slipped one into the tight clasp of his channel, slicking and stretching the passage as Harry begged.

"More...please...come inside...yes, that's it...yes...so good...YES!" He screamed as sie brushed against the spongy nub inside. He was so close now—could have come from Draco's fingers alone—but it wasn't enough, what he had to have now. Harry struggled against the overwhelming sensations, the instinct driving him toward release, and brokenly voiced his need. "Dra—Dra-co...inside...need..."

"Yes, love, yessss..."

The triarii sheathed hirself with one long, slow thrust, steadily making hir way past any resistance. Harry shook beneath hir, his body throbbing with the rhythm of their pulse shared in counterpoint. He lunged back as sie pushed forward and fell fast into a miasma of love and heat, longing and Resonant brilliance that stole all his reason. He could be greedy now, and forced the pace faster until there was nothing by the meaty slaps of flesh against flesh, Draco driving into him further and deeper, nudging against that bundle of nerves that sent spikes of pleasure up his spine and sunspots through his vision. Harry knew distantly that he'd screamed and that the moans that answered Draco's ecstatic cries were his, but he was helpless to do anything else, carried along as he was by the firestorm of their passion. He never wanted it to end, wanted this claim, this connection to Draco to last and last, but already he was hurtling toward the edge and with three stuttering jabs as sie drew closer to orgasm Harry was flung over the precipice of pleasure, his completion pounding out of him and over Draco's pumping fist in thick, pearly jets as the contractions of his channel pulled the triarii's come from hir in a flood.

Draco collapsed on his back as hir softened cock slipped from Harry's sated body. "Yours," sie murmured, kissing the sweaty skin between his shoulder blades.

"I love you." Harry turned his head and brought the tangle of their laced fingers to his lips. He admired the warmth brought to the tawny tones of his hand by the golden band, or perhaps it was the glow of Resonance, or soul-deep happiness. Deciding it didn't matter, he pursed his lips and pressed a kiss into Draco's satiny skin. _Whatever you want to call it—happiness, or Resonance, or a miracle—it's all just love in the end isn't it?_ He closed his eyes over his musings and relished the feel of firm muscle and soft roundedness—Draco's beautiful contrasts and contradictions. "Mine." And Harry drifted to sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **My undying gratitude to Mamacita-san for knocking this into shape.

And thanks to LJ's ashcake0405 for enjoying this story enough to rec it. Please R&R

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**26.**

The days between Christmas and New Year's passed in a flurry of planning and preparation with a friendly visit or two thrown in for good measure. They'd stopped by Hogwarts first thing on Boxing Day to visit with Madam Pomfrey. She'd been inundated with a _Scrofungulus_ outbreak and hadn't been able to get away from the infirmary for the family celebrations. Harry was still amazed at the rapport between the stern mediwitch and the Malfoys. He'd never have expected the transformation from demanding school matron to affable, light-hearted grandmother exchanging gifts and kisses. Maybe she understood Draco so well because she too maintained a public façade; though her mask was one of solitary, thorough professionalism, in private she doted on the mage and hir daughter in the way Molly Weasley saw to her own brood, plying them with tempting morsels and rich hot chocolate, scolding until Draco finished hir plate as Anna looked on laughing at her cowed vamar. They shared what had happened since Anna left school, and when Draco told her of their engagement, Harry, of whom the mediwitch had always been fond, was dragged out of his chair and smothered in a ferocious hug. "Congratulations, my boy! I'm very happy for you! Welcome to the family!"

"Erm...thanks, Madam Pomfrey." Harry fidgeted as the blondes looked on, Anna barely managing her giggles and Draco smirking amusedly as Harry was treated to the matron's effusive affection. Luckily, Harry had some experience with overzealous mothering types and managed to disentangle himself in short order. He smoothed down his shirt as Madam Pomfrey ruffled his hair. "Really, I'm just so pleased." She turned on Draco. "I suppose I can finally trust you'll be looked after properly." She smiled, approving their choice in each other.

"Yes, Poppy, Harry takes good care of me," sie assured with a small smile ,then rolled hir eyes as the mediwitch reminded hir of the few restrictions still in place from hir stay in hospital and browbeat hir into setting a firm appointment for a final follow-up in the new year.

They'd been able to Floo from the infirmary directly to Grimmauld Place since Harry had nullified the Fidelius at the end of the war. The residence was still Unplottable and Hermione had also made it Unknowable, so that if one didn't know the address or who lived there, it couldn't be seen. A lesser version of the Fidelius, the Unknowable charm prevented Harry from being hounded at home by the press, gawkers, and persistent fans, but enabled friends and associates to come and go without the potential risk and hassle of a Secret Keeper.

As expected, Kreacher was all too pleased to welcome the Malfoys to the Black residence, though he displayed his usual intractable attitude toward Harry. They'd come to a grudging agreement during the war whereby Harry, unlike his godfather, agreed to treat Kreacher with a modicum of respect if the elf would do as he asked and serve him and his household faithfully. Kreacher, of course, interpreted this to mean he should serve Harry and the other occupants of Grimmauld Place as the elf felt they deserved, which wasn't much. Not that this had been a problem during the war. Molly Weasley had basically taken over maintenance of the Order's headquarters and even without Kreacher's help served humongous meals that kept the soldiers fortified and managed to keep things tidy.

It was after the war, when Molly returned to the Burrow, that Harry's home had fallen into its current state of disorder. Harry only bothered to clean when the dust and clutter got too much for him, and even then his housekeeping spells were only passable. Since he brought takeaway for most of his meals he didn't keep much in the pantry besides coffee, tea, and Weetabix. Kreacher had taken to spending most of his time in tucked-away corners and crags to avoid Harry and potential requests to neaten up the house, so Grimmauld Place had quickly fallen into a disreputable state—not as bad as when Sirius had been forced into hiding, but certainly not the kind of place Harry would want to bring guests to; another reason why he didn't usually, and never really considered Grimmauld Place his home.

Since he hadn't been there consistently, and Kreacher certainly hadn't kept up with any sort of cleaning regimen, the manse was incredibly dusty when they arrived. Kreacher, on recognising Harry's guests, fell to his knees, babbling that they were too noble and good for the state of the Black abode. He would get to work immediately, seeing to their comfort. "My mistress is being so relieved to see the blood of the Blacks in lovely pure-blood Master and little Mistress. But Master Harry is sending her away." The elf seemed to bite his tongue over his thoughts on Harry's action.

"Master is not having anything fit for such illustrious and worthy company; Kreacher is shopping and then preparing tea and lunch for honourable Master and little Mistress. All good wizards be praised, the blood of Black flows pure again!" He reached out spindly fingers as if to stroke Anna's hand, but the girl flinched back and hid behind her vamar. The elf's behaviour was unsettling; none of the elves at Heritage House or Hogwarts acted like this, and she didn't know how to respond to him.

"Kreacher, leave her be. Set tea and coffee in the drawing room under a warming charm and go make us lunch," Harry snapped, annoyed at the elf for frightening Anna and embarrassed by the overall state of dusty disarray. "Don't worry, Petal," he said, turning to the girl. "Kreacher is a mite eccentric, but ultimately harmless really." He squeezed her hand. Anna nodded but caught some dust in her nose and started a fit of sneezing. Harry blushed and zapped off a few cleaning spells at the walls and banisters, then cast an air-circulation charm, reddening further under Draco's incredulous and somewhat disgusted gaze.

Harry flicked his wand at the collection of cobwebs in the corners and started Draco and Anna on a tour of the mansion's four floors, basement, and attic, explaining as they went what he could remember of various Black artefacts that had been put away when he'd moved in permanently. They spent the rest of the morning exploring tomes in the library and boxes in the attics, looking for Ophiuchus Black's potions journals. After a late lunch and more of Kreacher's eerie adoration, they Flooed home to the cottage. Three things had been decided: one, that Harry had no sense of interior design whatsoever; two, that Kreacher needed to be put out of everyone's misery; and three, that if they ever decided they needed more space than they had available at the cottage, they'd strip the Black house to its frame and start over fresh.

Well, Draco and Anna had decided on three things. Harry thought his affinity for chintz and the quirky placement of the bits and bobs he'd amassed over the years was quaint, and it suited his sense of comfort. He'd also decided that the move to Grimmauld would happen sooner rather than later, and set to work as soon as they got home trying to convince everyone that a move at the start of the year was a good idea.

Draco had been stubborn about it. Sie really adored their life at the cottage, and while sie was an outspoken change agent in nearly every other aspect of hir life, sie relied on the static routines of hir home life. The immovable object that was Draco Malfoy was finally worn down by the combined irresistible force of Anna Malfoy-Black and Helene Raedler. The ladies of hir life were determined that Grimmauld Place would be occupied as soon as possible, and they wouldn't take no for an answer. Their eventual victory left Draco out of sorts and short-tempered for a full afternoon, so they wisely decided to stay out of hir way and celebrated their victory with a trip to London to scope out the finest home furnishings shops with Pansy Zabini.

The initial decisions were now made; they planned to be in their new home by the sixth, and Anna and Draco had left Harry to deal with the final questions from the team of renovation elves so Draco could dress for the party at _Transcendence_. Harry couldn't really understand why sie had needed three hours to dress. He'd run upstairs, had a shower, and pulled on the ensemble of black silk and suede laid out for him in all of twenty minutes.

Once more Harry eyed the clock on the mantle; it was nearly time for Anna to go. She was spending the night with the Colliers since all the adults of her family, even Andromeda Tonks, were attending the party at _Transcendence_. "Anna?" he called up the stairs. "The Colliers' Floo is going to open for you in three minutes; you ready?"

"Coming Harry!" A heavy door slammed shut and the blonde girl bounded down the stairs, her overnight bag bouncing on her hip.

Harry caught her up in a hug and swept her over to the fireplace. "So, we'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon, all right?" He bussed her cheek and set her down. "Have a good time, Petal. Don't you girls do anything I wouldn't do."

"Does that mean we can do anything we want as long as we don't get caught?" She grinned up at him, her eyes smiling with mischief twinkling in their depths.

"Cheeky." He tapped her nose. "Definitely a Marauder's daughter. Go on, you," he said, throwing powder into the flames.

Anna laughed, nodding, and hugged him again as the flames turned green. "Love you, Harry, and you have a good night, too. I wish I could see you when vama comes down. Sie looks amazing!"

"After three hours I don't doubt it. G'night, Petal."

"Night, Harry!" She waved and turned to the flames. "Collier's Cottage!" and with a whoosh the flames swallowed her up.

Ten minutes later Lars and Helene came into the sitting room, both dressed to the nines. Because American wizard wear included more Muggle styles, Lars had opted for a tuxedo. It was cut to emphasize his tall, muscled form, the broadness of his chest, and his tapered waist. He looked fantastic—and his vest was the same aquamarine colour of Helene's georgette Grecian gown.

Harry whistled at the couple and clapped his hands. "You look wonderful." He stepped over to kiss Helene's cheek and shake Lars' hand.

"Cleaned up pretty well yourself," Lars smiled.

"I'd say. Sie really chose well for you, Harry. All your formal robes have been nice, but this one..." Helene circled her hand, encouraging him to turn around. "Wow! Really...just wow! You two are going to steal everyone's breath away."

"Well, if dressing time is what counts I'm not going to making many good impressions. Draco, on the other hand...Merlin, what is taking hir so long?"

Helene snickered. "He says this now," she said, poking her husband's side, sharing the joke. "Just you wait, Harry Potter. Trust me, every minute was worth it. Draco looks—"

"Amazing. Anna told me. I don't doubt it, bu—"

The words died in Harry's throat as his betrothed made hir way down the flight of stairs. Draco took each step with sinful deliberation, the long line of hir legs shown to their best advantage as sie descended, the pointed overlapping panels parting with each step to reveal hir bared thighs and calves. It was a similar effect to the risqué robe sie'd worn to the ball the night before Anna returned home from Hogwarts, but there were no trousers beneath this fall of gossamer silk. In fact, Harry wasn't sure whether Draco was wearing anything at all under the skirt. The beaded seams of the panels disappeared under the bottom edge of hir corset, and there were no lines or heavier shadows to suggest they lay against anything besides Draco's luminous skin.

Draco trailed the wispy edges of hir folded fan from hir leg to hir torso, drawing Harry's eye upwards to the long-line corset that ended just above hir hips in pearlescent ivory satin. It laced tightly up Draco's sides with cords of the palest gold and silver that snaked out in vines to drape from hir shoulders. Tiny pearls and crystal beads shot in rays from the moonstone and opal starbursts that adorned the front and back. A set of golden bangles adorned one wrist, a cuff of carved moonstone the other. Hir long, arching neck was bare except for the reddened mark Harry had left there this morning, which Draco now displayed with pride. Sie shone with the glimmering powder sie'd dusted on every bare centimetre, and even in hir hair. Hir hair, which was a masterwork of tiny wired plaits and strands of moonstone twined around and under a goblin-made circlet set with diamonds and the largest opals Harry had ever seen. It was beautiful, yes, but Draco outshone every gem.

"You. Look. Amazing."

Draco laughed as Harry tried to wet his dry mouth and throat. "Seriously," he said when he'd regained a little of his composure and crossed the room to kiss hir palm and lay it on his arm. "You are tonight's brightest star."

The mage smiled. "Les Éstoilles Noire. That's the point, Harry." Sie raised hir smoky, kohl-rimmed eyes to his. "But I'm glad you like it."

"Of course," he said, dropping a quick kiss on hir ruby-red lips and ignoring the reference he didn't understand. That was what Helene and Hermione were for. "But I would even if you weren't dressed the part of earthbound angel tonight. You're amazing every day."

"Muse, not angel; but smooth, Potter, very smooth. And I must say suede suits you. You look quite delicious tonight as well," sie said, running hir hands over Harry's trench-style over-robe.

"Night and Star. You chose well, Draco; definitely a matched set, the two of you." Helene nodded approvingly as she eyed the two together. "Now, let's get a move on. I brought out my dancing shoes, you know!" She winked at the couple and headed toward the door, where a car service with luxury vehicles that operated on the same magic as the Knight Bus had been hired for the evening.

They arrived at _Transcendence_ fifteen minutes later, thankfully without the awful lurching Harry'd come to expect from magical auto travel. Of course he should have suspected that no Malfoy would ride in something so unrefined or pedestrian. And Helene had offered him another history lesson (really, Harry was going to have a talk with McGonagall about the History of Magic curriculum). This one was about a conclave of triarii known as La Cour du les Éstoilles Noire that lasted three hundred years until the Great Persecution led to the burning of their estate and forced its members to scatter. Devotees of the Arts and Sciences, les Éstoilles Noire adepts were an inspiration to the forward-thinking—Muggle and Magical alike. Invested in music, painting, dance, literature, politics, and spellwork of Light and Dark magic, they'd sometimes partner an individual, or an entire royal court. Advisors, tinkerers, artists, and above all, courtesans who'd mastered the art of intrigue, the "Muses" of les Éstoilles Noire used their skill and seduction to bring beauty and advancement everywhere within their spheres of influence.

And tonight, brandishing a trademark fan of white and cameo peacock feathers and dressed in garb inspired by an era long past, Draco had claimed their legacy. Tonight amongst the patrons of _Transcendence_,les Éstoilles Noire would live again. And from the buzz that spread through the crowd on their arrival at the club, there were many in attendance tonight who knew exactly what that meant.

There were no Muggles tonight. As far as those customers knew, _Transcendence_ was closed for a private New Year's Eve party; that the party's guest list read like a Who's Who of Wizarding Britain wasn't for them to know. The partygoers were a mix of the club's usual clientele—the young, trendy, and adventurous; social climbers anxious to rub shoulders with celebrities and the politically powerful; triarii from all walks of life; the just plain curious; and of course, Harry's shark friends. Draco's entrance stunned them all speechless.

Cameras flashed in every direction as Draco offered the gawkers a sly, mysterious smile. Harry led hir into the club's depths and the show truly began. Draco spread the large feathered fan with a delicate flick of hir wrist and drew Harry behind its screen of privacy. "Just remember it's your mark I wear tonight, and it's you who will take me home," sie said, hir voice low and rumbling, hir grey eyes smouldering with promise. Draco kissed Harry thoroughly, and when sie lowered the fan the cameras flashed again as hir flushed fiancé was revealed, his mouth swollen and red from the glossy stain on the triarii's lips.

The crowd parted to let Draco through, and eyes followed everywhere sie wandered, noting how hir clothes concealed and revealed hir body by turns, how sie teased and flirted, coaxed and flattered, sometimes behind hir extended fan and sometimes not, both bold and demure, wanton and mysterious, leaving aroused and pensive or passion-filled or scandalised wizards, witches, and mages in hir wake. And the music played, and people danced, writhing or waltzing on the dance floor, but voyeurs all, each of them transfixed by seduction, by les Éstoilles Noire.

"I'm astounded that sie'd try something this blatant, and moreso that it seems to have worked," Kingsley said by way of greeting as he slipped into Harry's booth. His gaze and Harry's followed Draco into a darkened alcove with the head of the Department of Magical Transportation.

Harry smiled placidly at his boss. "Sie wants people to remember how triarii used to be treated. The magic they inspired—"

"And used," DMLE's department head cut in. "You realise the spell sie's working to cast the fan's screen is Dark?"

Harry was surprised. "Really? No, I didn't know that. Sie's not going to be in trouble, is sie?"

Kingsley shook his head. "It's a minor spell and was never put on the restricted list, but it's Dark nonetheless. And it's reported to be standard in the repertoire of an adept of les Éstoilles Noire. Sie's definitely pushing the line, bringing it all back. You have to give hir credit, Harry. It's a kind of courage you don't expect much of these days, especially in light of the attacks."

"Sie's pretty amazing all round, Kings." Harry smiled goofily as Draco turned and cast a particularly longing look in his direction. He sighed wistfully as sie turned away.

"You're all right with this? You know what they do, Harry..."

"Sie'd never cross a line I'd be uncomfortable with. Sie can flirt all sie wants; they can chase hir 'til the sun comes up." Harry raised his left hand and showed Kingsley his engagement ring. "It's me sie'll leave with, and only me who has any true claim to hir."

Kingsley gave a low whistle. "Damn. I see congratulations are in order."

Harry nodded. "We haven't made any definite plans yet. All our time's been pretty much devoured by the move. Draco, Anna, and the Raeders are moving into Grimmauld Place with me," he clarified at Kingsley's confused look. The older man nodded.

"Finally going to make that place liveable, eh? Good show, Harry. I reckon that grand old dame has fine bones."

"She does." Harry smiled. "I'm amazed at how well it's all coming together." The younger Auror chuckled. "I suppose I'll finally be able to have guests over."

"Well, be sure to owl me an invitation when you do. I'd love to see it reclaimed from all those dreary Black heirlooms and that sorry mess you called bachelor decor."

"Hey!" Harry slapped at his friend's arm. "There's nothing wrong with chintz!"

"No, if you're a socially reclusive housewife from Surrey or a gay centegenarian with a penchant for purple robes and tie-dyed socks. For a young man in his prime it's wrong, Harry." The dark-skinned man chuckled, then let his eyes drift to Draco again. "Sie really is quite beautiful," he said, somewhat awed by the triarii's fluid movement across the dance floor.

"Thank you," Harry replied proudly, though he knew he had nothing to do with it.

The former Auror snorted. "And I'll bet sie has dirt and inside information on all the power brokers of Britain by the end of the night."

Harry shrugged. He wouldn't deny it; Draco had said as much hirself once. "Slytherin," he commented. His eyes widened as the music changed and six androgynous youths, all corseted in varying colours and carrying peacock feather fans dyed to match their basques, dispersed within the crowd. Two wore iridescent blue and carried fans with the more familiar peacock blue, but there was also one in scarlet and others in a deep burgundy, purple, even hot pink!

"Very Slytherin," Harry emphasised as the youths took the floor, dancing provocatively with one another. Harry recognised two as _Transcendence_ staff, but he'd wager every Knut he had that all of them worked for Draco in one capacity or another and would be offering their reports of information gleaned through the evening.

Kingsley eyed them warily, having come to the same conclusion. "I remember hearing that when a member of les Éstoilles Noire was retiring from the Court—to marry, take a committed lover, or just withdraw from public life—they would host a huge gala, and the adept would perform one last dance. You think Draco will make hir debut and final performance on the same night?"

Harry never took his eyes from the triarii's languid form as he thought, and he was reminded that both of them had had lives, plans, schemes, and dreams before they'd come together. "It's the inaugural performance of a renewed Cour du les Éstoilles Noire, Kings. This isn't something Draco threw together at the last minute. First, it's not hir style. Sie's meticulous about these things, considers as many angles and possible outcomes as sie possibly can. So when sie started this I think hir plan was probably to lead the Court, but if what you say is true, then I came along and changed things. If a finale is the tradition of les Éstoilles Noire, then their guiding star will go nova tonight."

"That is exactly what sie will do," Helene said, edging into the booth. "But sie'll remain the Polaris, at least for a while." She stuck out her hand toward Kingsley. "Helene Raedler, and this is my husband Lars." She motioned over her shoulder with her free hand. Kingsley shook their hands and introduced himself.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that term, Mrs. Raeder. What is the Polaris?" Kingsley asked politely.

"Like Harry said, it's the guiding star. The leader of La Cour du les éstoilles Noire was called the Polaris. Sie shaped the Court's agendas and oversaw the placement of the adepts. When Draco was approached about re-establishing a Court, sie was made the Polaris. But it wasn't unusual for the Polaris to be retired from performance, as several of them had long-term lovers or spouses. Ask hir about it," she said to Harry. "You know that anything sie's involved in from here out sie'll want to talk to you about. It's actually pretty mind-blowing how this whole idea got started. Sie'd always planned for the first appearance to be tonight, but after the attacks started we weren't sure it was really going to happen."

Harry was about to respond to that and ask about how Draco had initially decided to reform the court of courtesans when his lover mounted the stage at the front of the room. A moment later Draco was speaking. Hir voice was not amplified, but multiplied, as though sie was standing beside every person in the room, caressing each one with hir sensuous, rumbling voice.

Sie stood and the six other adepts knelt, crouched, and sat around hir, all of them poised to hang breathlessly on hir every word, their poses encouraging all others in the room to do the same.

"Soon the bells will toll a new year. What does the future hold, my friends? More of the terror and strife that cast such a dark shadow over many of us this last year? Or shall we choose now to usher in a new era of hope and life, joy and magic? Can we not look back on our past and draw from it lessons and inspiration for tomorrow?" Sie snapped hir fan closed and pointed it over the crowd, sending a rush of warmth and exhilaration through them on a wave of gentle golden light. "Inspiration," Draco purred, "the new and exciting, the provocative and titillating...oh yes," sie breathed heavily, "we have known innovation before. Do you not remember La Cour du les Éstoilles Noire?" Sie laughed, a tinkling peal that trickled over the room. "No, after tonight we are not wholly forgotten. We, the muses, the courtesans. Remember, each of you; see us and create with us, court us and dance with us, revere us and love with us." Sie laughed once more. "We live again." Sie raised hir hands in triumph, and the youths at hir feet scattered as the music started.

Tambourines, rattles, and bells rang and clanged as percussive beats made on hand-stretched drums pounded out a slow and steady beat at first. Draco extended hir arm and bent hir wrist, snapping hir fan open with hir fingers. With a glittering flash, one became two, and sie snatched the second fan from the air, crouching low before it could strike the ground. The fans were spread before hir face, then, little by little, drawn away to reveal a demure smile that stretched with the pace, seductively rolling into a wickedly sensuous grin. The rhythm changed, growing faster as sie moved across the dance floor, folding hir fans and flicking them open again in time with the music; hir hips swayed with every step; and every beat was as tempting as a Siren's call, beckoning the crowd closer to look, to touch, to wonder, and to covet.

The music sped quick and quicker, and Draco matched its carnal pace; as though it were the pulse of an invisible lover, sie matched each stroke, beat for beat, combining movement and rhythm, reaching for heights of ecstasy and pleasure, and, voyeurs all, the throng was brought along with them, riding the crest of the music and Draco's passion. Hir skin shone with dewy perspiration now, and the thin panels of hir skirt did little to hide hir arousal. Decadence and desire whipped through the crowd with every turn, fetterless aching want churned the miasma of heady emotion with each footfall. And when it ended in a cacophony of sound and light, motion and magic, with Draco strewn across Harry's lap devouring his mouth, hir body heaving against his muscled form, erection straining against hir skirt, there were few in the room who weren't also on edge and frantic for release. And as the bells pealed, ringing in the new year, magical confetti rained down in _Transcendence_. Harry had Draco wrapped around him, hir ankles locked behind his back as he carried his burning star up the stairs toward the manager's office, not caring who saw them leave or what pictures would grace the papers on the morrow.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **Thank you Mamacita-san for the beta. And thanks to everyone who reviewed!

* * *

**27.**

As Harry had expected, the media had a field day with the debut of a re-formed les Éstoilles Noire at the _Transcendence_ New Year's eve party, and as a result the Triariius condition, les Éstoilles Noire, Draco's "scandalous" dance performance, and the supposed jealous rage that had overcome Harry afterwards were fodder for every call-in show and op-ed column in Britain. Harry didn't pay it much mind; there were at least two encouraging and thoughtful comments made for every attention-seeking git who wanted to make a name for himself by running others down. And honestly, Harry was glad the focus on the party took some of the spectacle away from Judas Iscariot's upcoming trial, or at least served as a temporary distraction.

Draco was handling hir anxiety over the trial by shopping and attending to the agendas of les Éstoilles Noire who debuted at the party. The group of six were continuing their training with an aged witch whose great, great-grandvamar had, at twelve, been the youngest adept in the final years of the original court. The wrinkled woman was keen to pass on the knowledge kept by her family and was a demanding taskmistress, but so excited to be part of the rebirth of her forebear's legacy.

Draco selectively dropped the occasional bon-mot to the eager media hounds expecting salacious details and grand statements of the purpose in the establishment of a court at this time. Sie said very little but confided to Harry that as the Polaris, sie was mostly committed to setting schedules, making contacts and basically attending to the logistics of spreading knowledge, information, and inspiration. While les Éstoilles Noire would no doubt evolve into an entity that engaged heavily in politics, Draco had no interest in that part and would definitely chose a new Polaris before the adepts embarked on a political course. As sie'd told Harry before, sie had no aspirations along the lines of hir father's machinations. For now, Draco was content to bring visibility to their training as living Muses, and recognition to triarii everywhere. It was hard to spew hatred against that which was considered beautiful and inspiring, or be shamed by difference when others recognised that uniqueness as admirable or valuable, sie'd said.

And as for the intrigues for which les Éstoilles Noire were infamous? The knowledge gained by the nascent Court gave them greater means to protect themselves against legislated prejudice. Draco was under no illusion that there were not those who would view hir position as the Polaris as the Machiavellian action of Lucius Malfoy's protégée and speak out vehemently against the adepts. There were those, however, who would also seek out their company and counsel, as well as those who would present themselves to the Court to train. Though Harry had said if Anna ever decided she wanted to enter the training he was going to lock her in her room 'til she was thirty. Laughing, Draco agreed and reminded him that not every triarii was admitted to les Éstoilles Noire, just as not every student with a talent for Defence Against the Dark Arts entered into the Auror Academy.

Draco had slipped out every afternoon for a couple of hours to meet with the adepts and Madame Bellefleur at the small Welsh country estate purchased for the use of les Éstoilles Noire. Harry wondered if sie'd spread hirself too thin with all hir commitments, but Draco assured him it was all in order, and that hir seemingly frenzied pace would settle down once the holiday rush was over and all the senior staff at hir holdings had returned so sie could delegate some of the workload sie'd taken on to others. But even with his concern Harry couldn't help but be a little glad that Draco's mind was so occupied, for in the meanwhile sie had little time to fret about Iscariot or fall into nightmares or speculate about the trial's outcome and impact.

The hearing was set to begin in three days, on the eighth of January. Anna would return to Hogwarts for the new term tomorrow morning just as they were completing the move to Grimmauld Place. Harry was truly happy about the move, and it turned out that while he'd been sceptical of Pansy's hand in the numerous shopping sprees, since his guestroom at the cottage in all its opulent glory bore her distinctive stylistic signature (Harry couldn't imagine being comfortable in a home that relied on the sort of pristine luxury that characterised his temporary room with its initial air of museum-like sanctity), he really needn't have worried, as Draco had squashed any of Pansy's more pretentious notions. Now Harry could now look forward to a home shaped under Draco's direction, and Grimmauld Place would be restored, not to the ostentatious excess of its heyday, but as a comfortably elegant and stylishly inviting home that welcomed its guests and made its occupants happy to stay within its confines—Anna especially, because Harry and Draco decided that the rooms on the first landing would be hers to do with as she chose. The room Harry and Ron had shared the first time they'd stayed at Grimmauld Place was being converted into Anna's bedroom.

To Harry's everlasting horror she'd picked the wall coverings and linens from Moon Frog patterns, and now the pink tartan of her favourite nightdress adorned the walls. Thankfully the coordinating linens were a more subdued style, though Harry was a still little frightened about seeing the room once it was installed. He was sure he'd go cross-eyed, even if Draco had reassured him that the limited time he'd be spending in Anna's room was mostly at night tucking her in for bed, so it wouldn't be too bad. Harry just hoped (again) there'd never be cause for McGonagall to see it. It was bad enough that _he _was going to have to live with it.

Anna had claimed a newly discovered storage space beside her bedroom as her own miniature library, and she'd decided to make the two bedrooms on the other side of the stairwell into guest rooms so she could invite the entire quintet over for a long visit during the summer holidays. She'd never been able to have more than one friend stay at a time, and she was ecstatic at the prospect of all four of her best friends guesting at her house, no doubt imagining all the mischief they'd get into. And of course those rooms, too, were given the Moon Frog treatment in bright pastels and eyelet lace.

Harry was already counting down the days 'til Anna put aside fluffy fairies and all things pink for Quidditch pads and the colours of her favourite team. At this point he would even have been glad for a room reminiscent of Ron's childhood den in shades of Chudley orange. _Padfoot, I'm sure you think this some major cosmic joke, and wherever you are you're laughing that I've been saddled with a child who's consigned me to a pink and purple hell, aren't you? Dad, spear our grinning Grim with those antlers for me, yeah?_

He sighed and placed the remains of his brandy-laced coffee beside the plate of cake crumbs on the table beside what had become his favourite armchair, drawing his thoughts back from tomorrow's move and all that had been going on in the last week. Helene and Lars had taken Anna to Heritage House tonight, while he and Draco were to visit the Weasleys. He'd wanted to bring Anna along to the Burrow, but Draco had argued that Twelfth Night at the orphanage was the perfect culmination of the holidays—Anna had not missed it since she'd first lived at Heritage House and should be allowed to go this year, too. Since Harry was insistent that they attend the celebrations at the Burrow and formally announce their engagement to his surrogate family, Draco reasoned that Anna should be allowed to stay with Helene and Lars and enjoy the traditions she'd grown used to. "There won't be other children for her to enjoy the night with at the Burrow, Harry. You said yourself that Bill and Fleur's son and daughter are at the Delacours' chalet, so it will just be the Weasley adults in attendance tonight. She'll have a better time here," sie'd wheedled, and Harry had caved.

"Mmm, so tense." Draco perched on the chair's arm and massaged Harry's neck. "If you're so worried about tonight we don't have to go, you know." Sie leaned down and kissed his brow. "We could stay home..." sie purred suggestively, hir words curling over his ear. "It _is_ our last night in the cottage; Anna won't be home with Helene and Lars for hours yet."

Harry leaned into the warmth of hir slender hand and chuckled. "Oh no, you're not getting out of going, you insatiable minx. Mum Weasley is expecting us and I haven't seen them since before Christmas. We're going." He levered himself out of the chair and grabbed Draco by the waist to gather hir into his arms for a kiss. "Nice try, though," he murmured against hir mouth.

"Worth an effort," sie pouted slightly, and opened hir lips beneath his. Draco obliged him, giving up hir mouth freely and playfully mating hir tongue with Harry's in the warm cavern of his mouth, sweet with traces of icing, slightly bitter from after-dinner coffee, with hints of sharp from the spicy brandy.

"Mmm, Harry," Draco whimpered, arching up against hir lover.

Harry, breathing heavily, pulled his head back. Lust deepened the colour of his eyes; the flames dancing in the grate warmed their bodies and lit their desire. "Draco...want you," he purred into the delicate shell of the blond's ear.

"Well, if you're going to have me you'd best take me now if we're going to be on time to the Weasleys'," sie rasped with a saucy smirk, and stepped back toward the couch with hir hands open to Harry in invitation.

Ravenous from just the taste he'd had of his lover, Harry took Draco's hands and tumbled them onto the couch, crushing the plump smirk beneath his lips. His hands roamed over the thick velvet robes as they trailed down the triarii's thighs and then up, tugging the lush fabric up to reach skin sooner than he'd thought to. With a feral snarl he broke their kiss and nipped at Draco's ear. "You're not wearing anything under your robes." The mage mirrored Harry's smile and guided his fabric-filled hands higher, revealing that sie was sans pants as well as trousers. Enflamed and impatient for more, Harry fumbled for his wand and pushed aside his own robes. He muttered a hasty lubrication charm and opened his trousers just far enough to expose his leaking, reddened cock.

"Want you. Love you so much," he murmured against Draco's neck as he spread the blond's legs, propping one over the couch-back.

Draco moaned, hir breasts straining against the robe as Harry fisted hir length. "Har-Harry, now. Need you, gods!"

Sie panted as Harry positioned himself in line with the glistening rosette of hir entrance, the portal shiny with lube and pulsing as Draco clenched and relaxed the guardian muscles in anticipation of being speared. "Want it. Harry. Now. Want your cock. HARRY!"

In one swift motion Harry entered hir and set a punishing rhythm, battering Draco's hole with fast, powerful strokes. It wasn't about finesse, just raw lust and the need to claim, to fill this beautiful, wanton body with his seed, to know that his scent, his essence was everywhere in and on his lover. Harry tugged Draco's cock faster as he felt that tell-tale tightening at the base of his spine radiate through his balls. And then he was there, his throbbing cock spitting ribbons of hot, sticky come into the silken warmth surrounding him.

Harry swirled his hand over the purpled head of Draco's cock and pressed just under the glans, then tore his mouth away from Draco's sweaty, marked neck and bit roughly through the velvet, taking an engorged nipple between his teeth. With a loud cry the triarii reached orgasm, come dribbling through Harry's fingers and down hir shaft. "Harry," Draco moaned. Harry lifted his head and saw the pleading in his lover's lustrous grey eyes. He smiled wickedly and ran his sticky hand over Draco's labia, flicking his fingers over hir clit.

"Mm-mm-mm," Draco whimpered and Harry kissed hir thoroughly, rubbing faster against the little button.

"Come again for me Draco. That's it…_that's_ it," he murmured against hir lips as sie writhed beneath him. With hir clit between his forefinger and thumb it was just moments before Draco moaned again and he felt hir mound quiver against his palm, new wetness leaking around the heel of his hand as hir cock spurted sluggishly.

As their bodies and ardour cooled, Harry brushed aside the wet strands against Draco's face with his lips. "So good, Draco. I love how hot you are for me. That I make you fly apart like that. Love you, sweetheart."

Draco lifted hir sweaty head slightly, then flopped back down on the couch. "The same. That—was—" sie panted— "yes." With an entirely self-satisfied grin, sie closed hir eyes. "However, while I sympathise that you lack the triarii ability for simultaneous orgasms, I refuse to let you take out your frustration at that lack on my wardrobe, Potter. You've just used a 60-Galleon robe as a spooge sponge."

Harry chortled at the dry delivery. "Spooge sponge?" he asked, cocking his brow.

Draco smirked. "A very expensive spooge sponge."

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. "All right," he snickered, staggering to his feet. "Let's get you into something more appropriate for visiting, then, shall we?"

Chuckling, the two made their way to their bedroom, cleaned up and changed, and with a quick stop by Heritage House to say goodbye to Anna they just managed to get to the gates in time to arrive fashionably late to the Burrow.

Harry Apparated Draco Side-Along to the edge of the Weasleys' walkway. Since the Weasleys' reversal in fortunes the Burrow had undergone major renovations, so rather than the former ramshackle hodgepodge of materials it now bore a homey brick façade and extended porch painted a crisp white, currently decorated with evergreen boughs that were festooned with bright red and gold ribbons. "Very…Gryffindor," Draco said dryly of the many oversized bows. Harry jabbed hir with his elbow. "Be nic—er...well...be civil," he grinned, and Draco nodded.

"This is actually rather understated by Molly's tastes." Both jumped a little, having been taken by surprise by one of their dearest friends.

"Remus, Tonks! Didn't hear you Apparate in," Harry greeted them, with a smile and hug for his friends.

"Remus," Draco nodded with a smile and then squawked as sie was lifted off the ground into a powerful hug. "Really, man, there's no reason to maul me. You just saw us days ago!"

The older man chuckled at the playfully put-upon aristocrat. "True, but you can never have too many hugs, Draco."

The blond sniffed and brushed at a non-existent wrinkle in hir cloak. "That remains to be seen." Sie nodded at Tonks. "Cousin."

Tonks nodded back with a look of distaste. "Uh, yeah," she muttered in a not-quite-reply, and made for the door.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You could _try_ to get along with her, you know."

Draco shrugged a shoulder. "I could, but it's so much more entertaining this way."

Harry rubbed his eyes and the older wizard laughed. "You are such a brat."

"Yes, quite. Now, let's go in before I'm frozen. I'll need to be partially thawed, at least, if I'm to make a decent impression on your family, Harry love." Sie winked at hir fiancé.

Harry groaned. "I'll be happy if you just manage not to incite anyone to murder or mayhem, Draco."

Remus stepped in front of them with his and Tonks' gifts. "Good luck with that, lad," he said with a wink as Tonks knocked on the door.

Despite the teasing, though, Harry knew his lover was nervous. The longstanding feud between the Weasleys and Malfoys, plus the childhood rivalry between several Weasley children and Draco, and Draco's own actions in admitting Death Eaters to Hogwarts were heavy strikes against his foster family accepting hir as Harry's chosen. But Harry was determined to put Draco at ease. Allowances would have to be made because he'd never give hir up. With a reassuring squeeze around Draco's trim waist, Harry stepped up to the door with a broad smile for their hostess. "Mum Weasley!"

It was, however, as Draco had feared—worse actually, because while she might not have taught any of her children the old etiquette, Molly Weasley had certainly learned the lessons given by Old Mother Prewett. She stood beside the door smiling and waved in Tonks, Remus, and Harry, greeting them each by name, but as Draco stepped forward Mrs. Weasley pivoted on her heel and gave Draco her back, whispering under her breath as she turned. Harry, directly in front of Draco, missed the action, but from the foyer Remus did not and his brows rose in surprise and disapproval.

With Harry and Tonks occupied by removing cloaks and a chattering Mrs. Weasley, Remus returned to the door and extended his hands. "I acknowledge you as Friend in the house of my hosts. I bid you enter and welcome in my presence," the man intoned with sad eyes and pulled Draco forward.

"Well, it should be an interesting night, then," Draco said, pursing hir lips.

Remus shook his head. "I'll do what I can, Draco. I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I, frankly." Sie ran hir chilled fingers through hir long fringe. "It's her house, Remus, she's within her rights, but the Shunning invocation? I can't think of a time in recent memory I've ever heard anyone actually use it."

The older wizard smirked. "Renaissance Foundation is advocating the return of the older customs, Draco."

The blond grinned a little. "I've been hoist with my own petard, is that what you're telling me, Moony?"

The older man sighed. "Just stay close." He rolled his eyes.

Draco nodded seriously. "Of course. But I don't want Harry to know, so..."

"Stay close. I'll handle it," Remus promised just as Tonks called out for him. He extended his arm. "Shall we go?"

"We shall." Draco cast him a pointed look. "She won't be happy with this, you know?"

Remus nodded again sadly. "Molly and I are old friends. She may not see it now, but I'm in the right."

Draco snickered as they headed for the expanded living room. "I should say so! It'd be rather awkward for my betrothed to make his announcement to his family with me freezing to death on the doorstep because his foster mother saw fit to Shun me from her house."

The evening passed pleasantly enough with mince pies and carols and cheerful conversation. Remus made sure to touch Harry casually whenever he sought Draco's input or when the blond was the subject of his tale, as the only way Draco could be seen or heard was if Remus acted as a conduit. Otherwise the Shunning invocation Molly had used when she turned her back on Draco at the door acted as a kind of powerful localised Notice-Me-Not spell.

The Weasleys had obviously been prepared by their mother for what to expect and how to act, since no one made mention of the silences that followed Harry's "Right, Draco?" and Remus did a good enough job as conduit that Harry was always able to see and hear his affianced when he spoke to hir.

The most difficult part of the evening for Draco was when Harry was telling his family about the snow-fort war fought at Heritage House on Christmas Eve and how much fun he'd had with Anna and the other children. Draco would have loved to have been a part of the retelling and felt somehow excluded from hir own memories of that day, almost as if the joy of them were being leeched away by the smiling, animated, yet hostile faces around hir. Remus seemed to understand and squeezed hir hand in a silent show of support, but the hurt didn't melt away until Harry turned his adoring gaze on hir.

"The best was Christmas Day, though." Harry smiled softly. "Especially after Christmas dinner."

"Oi, Harry!" Ron interrupted, slurping noisily from his fourth or fifth tankard of spiced ale. "You shoulda been 'ere for Christmas. 'specially after runnin' 'round in the snow all mornin'. You musta been 'ungry, an' nothin' those hoi-hoity-toity Malfoy elves coulda made can compare to Mum's ham!"

Harry chuckled at his more than slightly inebriated friend. "Actually, Ron, it's a Malfoy tradition that the meal be prepared by the family's own hands, so Draco and Helene did most of the cooking, though Anna helped with the _Bûche de Noël_! And I don't know about ham, but the goose was delicious. You're a mage of many talents, love." Harry winked at Draco, who smiled at the praise.

Molly huffed. "So you had a good dinner, did you, dear? That's...that's lovely," she bit out through her forced smile. "Though it would have been nice if you could have joined us. Been with your family," she added pointedly.

Harry ducked his head, blushing. "Well...well, you see, that's part of why Draco and Anna really wanted me there with them. That—well that's the gift they had for me after dinner."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry looked up at his friend with a grin, his green eyes sparkling brighter than she'd ever seen them. There was such happiness, such excitement there, her breath caught in her throat. "After dinner, well, it was the most amazing thing." Harry took up Draco's hand and kissed it. "Anna and Draco stood up and came to my seat, then Draco got down on one knee and Anna sat on hir raised one." He smiled at the memory.

"Oh, now that must've been something to see, that git Malfoy on his knees!" Fred laughed, egging the entire family into laughter and chuckles, but they all quieted quickly as Harry scowled at them. "They asked me to be part of their family," he said with quiet dignity in the face of his family's dismissal. "Draco and Anna asked me to marry them and I said yes," Harry snapped out, then he grabbed Draco's hand and bolted angrily from the table. Amidst the shocked gaps and denials Remus quickly followed them, leaving his stunned wife with a quick word of apology.

He caught up to them in the kitchen, where Harry was pacing and ranting up a storm.

"...can't believe they'd act like that! And with you sitting right there! I never expected them to be so disrespectful. So—so—argh! It was the best, the most beautiful moment of my life, and they just—I don't know...and FRED! That fucking—and why the hell aren't you saying anything?" Harry spun and hollered at the triarii just as Remus slipped his arm around the shaken mage's waist. "Oh. Remus. Um..."

"Come here, Harry," the lycanthrope directed, holding out his other arm. Harry came and the older man enveloped them both. Only then did Harry hear the tiny hitches in Draco's breath, see hir face pink with embarrassment and dismay, feel the warm trail of salt on hir porcelain-fine cheek.

"I am so sorry, Harry. So sorry you had to hear that. That they've hurt you." Draco reached up and stroked Harry's cheek. "It'll be all right. Really. They're shocked now, but give them a little time. They love you, Harry. You've just..." Sie chuckled wetly. "Well, you've just gone and done what you always do, which is defy everyone's expectations."

Despite himself, Harry smiled a little. "The only family I've ever known just basically turned their backs on me. You're not supposed to make me want to smile now."

A blond brow rose in response. "And when have I ever done what you've expected of me?"

Harry sniffled. "True." He tenderly wiped away Draco's tears. "Are these for me?" he asked gently.

"Well, they're certainly not for me, you dolt. Malfoys don't have feelings to be hurt."

This time Remus chuckled, reminding them both they were still held in the older man's arms. "Such a brat."

"You love me anyway," Draco said confidently.

"That I do. And Harry," he met the younger man's wet eyes, "I'm sorry, too. But don't you forget that you've more family that loves and supports you than is in that room." He nodded toward the door. "I love you, lad, and I'm proud of you both for wanting to share your happiness and for standing by your choice."

"Harry?" Hermione's tentative voice came from the doorway. The wizards and triarii turned. "We're sorry, Harry. It's just such a surprise to us and...well, Molly's a sobbing wreck and Ginny's having a fit of histrionics. You have to understand..." She trailed off as Harry's eyes blazed with building fury. She swallowed and tried again. "You should come back and—"

"And what?" he snapped "Listen to you lot belittle my future veru? Have you forgotten I was here when you and Ron announced your engagement, Mione? I remember how it was then. How it should have been for me. Instead I get to watch people I love, people who are supposed to _love me_, _support _and_ accept me _and_ my choices_, demean the most precious moments of my life and treat me, the mage I love, and the girl who's going to be _my_ _child_ like rubbish." Harry turned his head away. "Tell them whatever the hell you want, Mione. I'm not going anywhere except _home_ to be with my _family_."

Without another word Harry Disapparated to the gates of the Malfoy estate. Draco rolled hir eyes, "Let it never be said you don't know how to make an exit, Potter." Sie tapped hir ear cuff and called for a carriage, then turned to Remus. "I don't suppose this is what you meant when you told my cousin you were stepping out for a moment?"

Remus snorted and gently cuffed the back of Draco's head. He tapped his own golden ear cuff. "I'm not sure she'll want to join us. She may decide to stay at the Burrow for a while."

"Her loss. Marie's king's cake is a treat not to be missed. Actually, if we hurry there may be some left for us." Draco shrugged, making light of the evening's disappointments. Sie gasped Remus' arm and headed for the carriage that had arrived, but he shook his head to indicate that his wife was staying at the Burrow. "Don't mope, old man, you'll get wrinkles." Sie paused for effect and examined Remus' face. "You'll get even _more_ wrinkles."

And with the pain hir friend and hir fiancé had experienced dampened by laughter and love, sie mounted the carriage, determined to make the most of the night with the family that mattered most.


End file.
